Dreams Beneath the Surface
by drdit92
Summary: Now complete. Thanks everyone! This is my 2013/14 Winter Ficathon Entry. Cover Art courtesy of the great dtrekker. Prompt 1: "She awoke with a start. The bed beside her was cold, the room still dark save for the soft glow of the light outside filtering in through the window as it reflected off of the steadily falling snow." A/U sometime in season 6.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is my first time entering a Ficathon. I'm very excited about this story; the idea came to me several months ago and I jotted down some stuff in a notebook. However, I wanted to finish up my first fan fic before embarking on more stories. Which worked out perfectly when I saw the announcement for this Holiday Fanficathon. **

**Now, just to warn you: this is not fluffy. In fact, in the beginning there will be quite a bit of angst. Chapter 2 is going to be killer. However, I will not be killing anyone off and eventually….maybe…..probably there will be happiness and light. Just not for a bit. So, read on, please. But some patience for the journey will serve you well. I think it will be worth it.**

* * *

She awoke with a start. The bed beside her was cold, the room still dark save for the soft glow of the light outside filtering in through the window as it reflected off of the steadily falling snow.

Glancing at the bedside clock she saw it was 2 a.m. The cold bed hadn't awakened her; she had been sleeping alone for months now; before his arrival in her life and now after as well. It was a sacrifice worth making.

Still, she knew without a doubt he was not in his bed. Knew where he almost certainly was: sitting in the living room, staring out the window at the dark landscape which would be devoid now of details by the mantle of fresh snow.

She'd been careful. No reminders of his past. She'd furnished the house with _their_ story in mind. There was not a single keyboard in the entire place. Nothing that might trigger the unwelcome muscle memory of his fingers dancing across the keys, the feeling of recounting a story or creating a new universe. She was even careful with papers and pens, afraid of what even the mundane task of writing might bring forth. But she couldn't completely eliminate the risks. They were asking so much of him, of her.

She controlled his days. Used the time to reinforce the story, her belief in him. In _them_. She had despaired for a few dark days but recently felt that he was finally coming around; at least during the daytime that is. She thought she could now see the progress, was certain of it on their good days.

The biggest improvement was in his attitude toward her. He seemed to finally trust her, relied on her. Not that he'd had much of a choice. It was her or nothing. And nothing wasn't possible for him at this juncture.

Yet she had other markers that pointed to his acceptance of what his life was now. Verbally, it was in what he told her, how he spoke to her. He now finally referred to her as his wife. Called her some of the sweet nicknames that a couple has for each other.

However, in her more honest moments with herself, in the deep of night when she woke and knew he was sunk deep in his mind battling the dreams and trying to decide what was real and what was not, she knew there was a chance he was just parroting her daytime words to keep her from continuing to hammer at the shell he'd created to keep her out.

She didn't control his nights. Not without drastic measures. And those measures would destroy him, so they were no longer an option. She knew the struggles he had at night. A large part of her was frustrated he hadn't accepted everything yet, wouldn't touch her, wouldn't even sleep in the same bed where she could completely envelop him in the story of _them_. But she knew once he did, he would be completely hers.

Still, he resisted. She appreciated that this was a tremendous strain. Despite all the precautions they'd used from the beginning to make him question everything. It wasn't easy wiping everything he'd known and replacing it with their version of the story of his life. Despite the access to the medications and the training. The solitude. A lesser man would never have lasted this long. But Richard Castle was not a lesser man and she'd worried for a while it wasn't going to work.

However, it was imperative that this worked. There was no option for failure, no wiggle room. Failure to comply meant death. So she worked extra hard each and every day. Recent reports that she'd submitted were more positive, reflected the progress that she'd won at such great cost. She'd never considered lying. That would mean her death, certainly. His as well.

As she sighed and turned over in the bed, she hoped that the progress she'd seen was real, not him just telling her what she wanted to hear. She hoped he was starting to accept it all and that he'd soon be in her bed. Her husband in more than just name. As she drifted off to sleep again, she mentally promised herself she would try even harder again in the morning.

The little light that made it into the room barely illuminated anything, but if someone had been standing, watching, they might have appreciated the soft gleaming of the wedding ring on her left finger as she sank into slumber once again.

* * *

He sat in the dark. Really, sitting wasn't a choice he had to make anymore. But the dark was. A glass of water rested on the table next to him. He was in the living room, which faced the endless back of the property. There were no lights out back, so typically the only illumination was from the moon and the stars. It was a landscape he'd become familiar with over the last few weeks. Tonight, with the heavy snow, even the familiar scenes were obscured.

His eyes had long adjusted to the black of night, but he wasn't really looking at the landscape outside of the picture window he sat behind. It was just a place to hold his gaze while his mind tried to make sense out of the jumble his life had become. The reflection of the snow, glittering occasionally in what tiny light was available, was soothing. It helped calm him enough he could try and sort through the dreams and nightmares that visited him every night.

It was the same theme every night, though the details might change a bit. Every night since he'd first awakened into the hell that had become his life. Physically, he supposed he'd recovered fairly well. Considering. Mentally was an entirely different prospect.

Amnesia. That's what they called it. Such a simple word for the fact that he couldn't remember anything more than bits and pieces of his life before two months ago. Since before the accident. With everything else, he might have recovered and moved on with his life. It would have been difficult, but possible.

Without his memories though, even moving on was difficult. Things made more sense in the light of the day. He had her to explain things, why things were a certain way. What the plans were. What he needed to do. He had her to get him through the difficult rehab of the day. The draining physical demands that were made of his body.

The nights were when he was alone though. The night was when the dreams visited. Any semblance of control was lost in the dreams. They led to questions that he couldn't answer. He'd found out the hard way that she wouldn't answer them either. He wasn't sure why; he was told it was his confused brain making up stories to try and sort out the jumble of his brain that had resulted from the head injury, the crash.

Some of the dreams were clearly of his life before the crash. This should be a positive, a sign that maybe his memory was coming back. Yet some of these were the ones that disturbed him the most. He guessed that was why he kept them from her entirely. No sense in burdening both of them with his nonsense. The best were when he dreamt of their daughter. Sometimes they made him sadder, but mostly they were happy dreams when she was in them.

They always started out with simple joy just being in her presence. He had so many scenes of her through the years, though they were simple snapshots never long scenes. He remembered red hair, watching her grow. They had conversations in his dream, discussing wide ranging topics. At least he thought they did. The words always faded as soon as he awoke, but the feeling of happiness and contentment in being with her never faded. He wished he could talk to her now, let her know how much he missed her.

There were also ones he didn't understand. Ones where his daughter looked old enough to be an adult; well, she was one now so he supposed these were scenes he dreamt of her as he'd last seen her. Often in these dreams she seemed to be pleading with him to come back to her. She was sad because he wasn't with her. Which made no sense as she'd been the one to leave him.

He knew she was grown now, but couldn't remember the details of her life over the last year or two at all. Another part of the head trauma he'd been told. His wife had filled him in, shown him the pictures. Their Alexis was now living in Africa, working in a remote village that left her out of communication save for some brief letters.

He was so proud of her, working with those so unfortunate that clean water was a daily struggle. Unimaginable. Yet, part of him couldn't help but wonder why she hadn't come home after his accident, after his memory loss. Perhaps Alexis has been shielded from the worst of it; maybe his wife and family not wanting to worry her? But that would be unfair both to him and to Alexis. She should know the truth and he deserves to have her comforting presence at his side.

Instead he just had the dreams. He doesn't know why she would want him to come to Africa. It makes no sense and he's decided it's just a manifestation of his wanting her with him. It was an impossibility now no matter what. Her last letter had given absolutely no indication that there was a problem. No, he was sure these nightmares were a simply a result of his accident and his natural worry over his baby girl being so far away; in a place he couldn't protect her.

One thing that has been bothering him tremendously after he awakes trembling from the dreams is the lack of a very important person in the dream with his daughter, really in his dreams altogether. Alexis is a constant. Her appearance in his unconscious mind was always something that filled him with joy and excitement. Yet her mother is never there with her. He never has dreamt them together. Never has seen them acting as mother and daughter. It's like that part of their life has been completely cut out of his head. And this bothers him, bothers him a lot.

He's learned to not say anything to his wife about it; the hurt look on her face the first time he'd broached the subject, even as tangentially as he'd started, was enough to shut him up. She shouldn't have to be injured by his brain's lack of cooperation in remembering his life before the injury. She still had all of her memories intact; it was his that were faulty, absent.

The reality of it is that Alexis had left for Africa prior to his accident. He's sure this plays a role in his dreams as she's almost always alone. Sometimes he dreams of her with his mother, who's been dead for two years now. But in those dreams Alexis is always younger, which makes sense. He's just not sure how to explain the fact that his wife is still missing from them.

But these dreams of his daughter and not of his wife are really not the entire source of his disquiet. Sure, they play a role. Yet they are not the reason that when he awakens from yet another that he finds himself seeking out the solitude of a dark living room in front of a window looking out at a black night. Not the reason he fears to sleep. Not the reason he drags himself out of the bed without her help, afraid to sleep and dream again.

No, his dreams of his daughter are wonderful; she's not physically present in his life but he loves dreaming of her and the wondrous woman she has become. But the more disturbing dream that almost always follows dreams of Alexis is what wakes him every night desperate to leave his bed and to remain dreamless in general. These are the moments when his dreams of her fade and are replaced with the nightmares. Shadowy agents stalking him, stalking his daughter. He feels danger lurking around every corner, feels one wrong step could be his last. Which is a funny way to think about it. Considering.

But the very worst part, the part that makes him want to scream in fear is that he is not the true target. Neither is Alexis. He knows he is in danger, but it's because he is in the way, not the primary concern. The person most in danger is the woman he aches to dream of every night, the woman he can't stop thinking of. Even in the light of day. The woman he thinks isn't even real.

He first dreamt of her as a hazy, foggy figure. Nothing that had much certitude, more of a feeling about her. These were his dreams when he first woke up. He has them nearly every night. With time, with his recovery, she became clearer. He's not sure if that's because she truly exists (doubtful) or if his mind is just filling in cracks that it can't do for him in the rest of his memories.

In the last week her image in his dreams has become exquisitely detailed. She has long, wavy brown hair. Hazel eyes that sparkle at him. She is tall, with long legs that never end. He feels her love for him and embarrassingly thinks he might feel the same way. That's why he'll do anything to keep her safe. Even an imaginary woman.

Sometimes he dreams of them in a soft, warm bed. Making love all night. The wonder of her skin beneath his, his hands in her soft hair. Kissing him deeply, losing himself in her.

Other times he dreams of her death. Lying on green grass with him kneeling above her, cradling her body as her bright red blood leaks out onto his hands. Telling her he loves her. Hearing her whisper the same to him.

He hates these dreams. They're so real, so detailed. It seems like she's real, he aches for her. Yet he knows she's not. It's confusing. He is drawn to her like iron to a magnet. It's something he really doesn't understand. Staring at the dark landscape doesn't really help, but at least he's not in the middle of the dreams anymore.

He's learned to keep his worry to himself. His wife hates it when he tries to discuss the feeling of danger, the worry over their lives. Is Alexis safe? Are they safe? No matter how irritated she gets, reassuring him nothing, no one is looking for them. They live in the middle of nowhere after all. He's not stupid enough to mention the dream woman who is not her. It doesn't make any sense to him, how could he explain it to his wife who has done so much for him?

Still, that feeling of fear and danger is hard to shake, even in the light of day. It fades a bit; he can easily look out the windows and see they are surrounded by nothing but fields and mountains. No other houses, no other people. A vast emptiness that might make some feel safer but paradoxically makes him feel even more exposed. After all it's not like he could get away without help.

So the day brings some comfort, but it's all lost at night. As soon as he dreams of his mystery woman. Knows however the danger might manifest that it will never rest. That part really frightens him. What if it's coming right now?

The other reason he hates the dreams is because of his wife. No matter how hard he tries, each night that he dreams of the woman who haunts him turns into a night in which any feeling of closeness he has developed during the day with his wife is utterly destroyed. He despises himself for it, but he can't help himself. Each night he eagerly looks forward to seeing her again, at least until the danger starts. And each time he wakes up feeling like he's been cheated. Of her presence in his mind; on his wife in reality?

He shakes his head, unable to reconcile the conscious with the unconscious. Why does he feel closer to an imaginary woman than to his wife? He's not being fair to her at all until he resolves this issue.

Meredith claims she understands that he needs time. Knows that he's been through a lot and that the memory loss has included their entire marriage. Not to mention that his physical condition has been altered so dramatically.

She's been beyond patient with him. He doesn't deserve her. He wants to love her; wants to be more than he is. But he can't erase the feelings he has for his dream woman. The one with whom he feels he truly belongs with. And the fact of the matter is that he doesn't remember their marriage. Has no frame of reference to hang his feelings for her on. She is essentially a stranger to him, though he feels close to her as the last weeks have shown the depth of her love for him.

But he's never once dreamt of Meredith, doesn't know why that might be. When he looks at her during the day, looks at her beautiful blonde hair, her slight figure so short and petite he wonders why he doesn't feel any connection, why she doesn't seem familiar. She's the mother of his child and yet he doesn't remember her giving birth, her pregnancy, their happiness.

The lack of connection results in the dreams. The dreams make a connection more difficult. It's a catch 22 that loops through his head every night after he wakes up and slowly makes his way out to the living room to be alone with his thoughts. He doesn't know how to fix this and there are times he's not sure he wants to.

But that's not fair to her. He has no business being obsessed with a fictional woman when his wife of almost twenty years has so patiently waited for him, been through the hell of not knowing if he was going to be ok and now everyday lives the hell of knowing that he doesn't remember her. Good thing the vows apparently included 'for better or worse, in sickness and in health.'

He'd have been totally lost without her. He knows she wants more of him, wants things back to normal. He sighs. It's time to start trying harder to be the man he wants to be for her. Well, at least half the man. He's still not come to terms with all the sequelae from the crash.

He turns the wheelchair carefully around and starts to roll his way to the bedroom they've adapted for his needs. Getting in and out of bed is very difficult alone, but he can just manage it.

If he wants to be better he has to get more rest. Dreams or no, he needs to sleep. He decides that tonight he'll cave in to the sleeping pill Meredith had been encouraging him to take. It should allow sleep and hopefully prevent further dreams. He knows he's never been a coward; that was a part of his identity that could never be altered no matter what kind of trauma he experienced. But he didn't mind admitting to himself that he didn't like having the dreams. No, Richard Rodgers was not a fan of these dreams at all.

If he could control his nights so the dreams never came he was sure to feel better during the day. Perhaps then he'd start to make progress with the memories, with his relationship with Meredith. Maybe he'd feel less danger, feel safer with a good's night sleep. Yes, this was what he needed now.

As he wheels his way back to his room, the liquid black of the night settles back over the living room. Only the intermittent flash of light from his chair's spokes and the wedding ring on his left hand caught any light at all. Once he is back to his room even these flashes are gone and the pure darkness takes complete control once again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hope everyone in the States had a great Thanksgiving and a safe Black Friday. For everyone outside of the U.S., thank god it's Friday! Hope you like this next chapter of my little story. Thank you so much for any reviews you post; always enjoy hearing from you guys! And remember, it's always darkest right before the dawn.**

* * *

She awoke with a start. The bed beside her was cold, the room still dark save for the soft glow of the street light filtering in through the window as it reflected off of the steadily falling snow.

The bed stretched to the side of her empty, silent, and mocking. It was torture to sleep here. It was impossible to sleep anywhere else. Although she's not sure she's slept at any point since she'd lost him. Rather, there were periods of awareness and periods of unconsciousness. She preferred the latter.

It'd been about two months since she'd seen him last; kissed him, touched him, smelled him, felt him. Since then, without him, she'd been bereft. Adrift in a bleak sea without end. No anchor; he'd once served as her link to normalcy. Well, maybe not normalcy, it was _him_ after all. But a link to everyone else. No longer tethered to the real world; she now chased oblivion. Nothing brought her any feeling of happiness or desire to live any kind of normal life. Not without him.

They'd tried at first; putting her in the guest room thinking it would be easier. Wanting her to avoid the sight of _their_ room, the bed they'd shared. As if any bed without him would be restful. They'd given up after she simply sat, sleepless for two nights, refusing to lie down at all. At least in their bed she'd lie down and pretend to sleep. In fact once returned to their bed she'd done nothing but lie there. A weeks long haze of existence without living.

She is alive, in the technical term. Her heart beats on, though how it knows to function without him is a mystery to her. Sometime s the pain of it all hits her so hard that she feels certain it will finally muffle that traitorous organ completely. Yet it beats on. Approximately 6 million beats have occurred since she lost him. She can't fathom how this can be. After all he'd fixed her heart when it had been so very damaged. Surely his loss will lead to its demise. The question is when?

Physically she is so withdrawn that she's stopped interacting with the world entirely. She doesn't eat; hardly drinks. Enough to stay out of the hospital, but just enough on that side. They've resorted to making shakes and smoothies; a straw in her mouth will trigger some survival instinct for sustenance, at least enough to prevent complete dehydration. The thought of eating anything without him makes her nauseous. Everything about the whole situation makes her nauseous. It is a daily occurrence for her to be physically ill.

Her hair is starting to fall out; she doesn't care. Her skin is so pale she appears ghostly. Dark circles beneath her eyes. Marked weight loss has drawn the skin of her face into a rictus. She looks like a zombie. She doesn't look in the mirror, could care less how she appears. He's not here. Nothing matters anymore.

Martha and Alexis both live with her again. Had moved in after the funeral. It doesn't matter; she's almost never outside of their room; they can have the rest of the loft as far as she's concerned. What does it matter now that she's lost him? It's not like she'll interact with anyone.

Oh, they've all tried. Over and over. Without any noticeable success. Tried to draw her out, get her to eat. She'd not resisted their attempts, but she'd also not complied. She's slowly become more aware of them than they realize, but can't find it in her to let them know. She's buried so deeply inside now she can't remember her way back to the surface. Nor does she want to. How do you interact with others when half of your soul has been sliced clean away?

If they want her in the living room, they have to dress her (like a child), lead her to a chair and physically sit her down. She makes absolutely no move to help. She is an automaton without a program of instructions as to how to behave, how to exist without him. Nothing penetrates her core where she's locked her essence, what is left with him gone from this world anyway.

Very early on, Alexis had tried sleeping with her in their bed. Probably thinking it would bring them both comfort; perhaps just wanting some comfort for her. He _had_ been her father.

It was a complete disaster. Alexis apparently joined her during a time that she'd somehow managed to fall into a hazy period of unconsciousness. Probably desperate for his smell, his presence, his daughter had lain down beside her. On his side of the bed. When she had slowly awakened and first sensed the presence of someone _there_ she thought he was back; that all of the horrific events over the past few weeks were just a nightmare she'd been unable to wake from.

Then she'd realized it wasn't him and reality crashed back down on her. Her keening screams, piercing and unstoppable had shaken Alexis and Martha to no end. It took over forty minutes for her to stop; at no point did she acknowledge their presence. She was locked in herself. He was absent in the real world, so why bother with anyone else?

That was the last time Alexis lay down on their bed. The bedroom had become her entire world. Everything contracted down to this room. It still smelled like him, held his most intimate things. She included herself on this list. He was gone and nothing would bring him back. So she'd never leave.

Others tried to help her as well. Her dad. Lanie. The boys. They even brought in Dr. Burke. A fruitless hour of him trying to get her to respond to him led him to use words like catatonia, stupor and apathy with the others when they thought she couldn't hear. He'd given them a prescription of benzodiazepines for her treatment. They didn't work. He'd next suggested electric shock treatment; they knew that wouldn't work either. Disturbingly it took them much longer to consider it than it should have merited.

Finally, he'd mentioned hospitalization. Jim Beckett had refused. He felt they could take care of her better on their own. That she'd recover if only they were there for her, loved her. He'd moved into the guest room two weeks after the funeral but his presence didn't alter anything. Nothing and no one could reach her.

When her mother had died she'd been young and naïve to the cruelties of the world. Johanna's death had opened her eyes to how evil really did stalk the earth, in the forms of greedy, ruthless people who didn't care if they hurt others as they sought power.

She'd lost her father emotionally and physically shortly after they buried her mother. She'd been on her own at that point and learned to hide her heart and her feelings deep inside. If she didn't risk herself for love then nothing would ever hurt her again.

It worked for years. She became the foot soldier she wanted to be in the quest for justice, especially for her mother. She was good at pursuing the truth and brought some meaning and comfort to those whose loved ones were taken by violence. She didn't need anyone; really her entire life was structured for her to be alone. This was her duty in life, her burden to carry for her mother's sake.

Yet, just when she felt she'd settled into the groove that would mark her forever, she was derailed by Richard Castle. He'd stampeded into her life, knocked her emotions back out of the box they'd been carefully locked into and made her realize there was much more to living than vengeance.

It had taken her far longer than it should have, but once she'd relented and let him in all the way they had been magical together. She'd never imagined a world with someone she loved so much, never thought she was even capable of these emotions. He'd healed all the dark corners of her heart and made her want to be a better person for him.

They'd planned a life together. Were engaged, set a date. They had their ups and downs; she'd pursued a job without telling him after feeling like he was withdrawing from the relationship. But they'd worked their way through it and came out stronger in the end. She'd felt nothing could mar her happiness. Was willing to step away even from her mother's case as long as it meant she had him. His love and their future was an entire new direction for her and she'd set off down that path holding his hand, skipping for joy.

She'd resumed her job at the 12th precinct after being fired from the Attorney General's office. Moved in with him, blended their lives so completely that she had no longer known where she started and he ended.

Everything was perfect. They'd been a month from the wedding; it was to be at their house in the Hamptons. Small and intimate, just close friends and family. With all the details ironed out, he'd agreed to go on a brief book tour so their honeymoon and first few months as husband and wife would be uninterrupted.

It was just supposed to be ten days. Quick stops in California, Washington, Oregon and Arizona. He was only halfway through it when the disaster struck.

She'd gotten the call while at work. Rick had called that morning before she'd left the loft. It was really early for him, but they'd cherished their morning video chats. It made her feel he was much closer than geography suggested.

He was in Washington that day. Getting ready to fly down to a stop in Oregon after a book signing in Spokane. Nothing stood out from the conversation that she desperately tried to recall later. He was missing her, she was missing him. Paula was driving him crazy. Gina was driving them both crazy.

It was the same as usual. Nothing to indicate that this was the last conversation they'd ever have together. That was one aspect of the universe she didn't comprehend at all. If the man who had become an integral part of her soul was about to be removed in the most cruel fashion she could imagine, why wouldn't there have been some indication? Some sign that said, hey, Kate Beckett make sure you tell him how much you love him. He's not coming back. But there'd been nothing and she'd gone unsuspecting off to her job while he went back to sleep for a few hours until it was time for the book signing.

They'd caught an interesting case that morning, so she'd not had time to text much to him when he messaged her later that day. She was counting on being able to talk to him that night once she was back in the privacy of their home, so in her mind there had been no need to text much. She'd been busy. Oh, she'd been so foolish. He was the priority, the only thing that mattered in her life and she'd frittered the precious time they had left together worrying about a stupid case.

She'd stayed late with the boys, filling out their timeline. It was coming together nicely and she remembered feeling satisfied and even _happy_ that while challenging, they were figuring it out.

When her phone chirped around 9pm she wasn't shocked how late it was; there was no one to go home to and work had occupied her. However, she knew it was about time for him to call. His itinerary had shown that he was due in Corvallis around 5pm pacific time.

She was surprised when she saw that it wasn't his caller id on her screen, but when she saw the area code was 509 she decided he was calling from a local phone. She had no idea the area code for Corvallis was 541.

She'd answered lightly, happily. A little distracted by something Ryan had been trying to say about the murder board, but excited to be talking to him at the same time.

It hadn't been him. She didn't understand who it was initially. A deep male voice and the words Washington State Patrol along with plane crash didn't make any sense.

She'd been sharp with the stranger on the phone then, asking him to repeat what he'd said. She couldn't process any of the information. Why would they need NYPD for a plane crash? In Washington state? He wasn't making sense. The boys had turned to watch, hearing the barely suppressed panic in her voice but not understanding any of it.

Unfortunately, they'd not moved from their positions by the murder board so when she finally understood exactly what the voice was telling her they were in no position to catch her as she sank boneless to the ground, screaming, then blessedly losing consciousness completely.

Details after that are quite hazy to her. It's not like she wants to relive them. She'd regained consciousness in the break room, Ryan hovering over her with eyes brimming over with unshed tears. Of grief and concern. Espo on the phone; her phone. Speaking in hushed tones to whoever was on the phone at the other side of the country tasked with destroying her life.

Her hopes that she'd misheard, that there was a mistake turned to ash as soon as she saw the looks on the faces of the boys. Someone (probably Espo) had called Lanie and she'd arrived and taken over babysitting Kate. Which consisted of sitting in the same room as her trying to hug her while she curled into a ball and rocked, sobbing and repeating one word over and over. Gates had still been there and ordered them to take her home.

She'd refused until they'd finally gotten a fax with the details of the crash, the passenger log copies. It would be the last time she spoke or acted remotely like the strong woman she had molded herself into before he'd stormed into her life.

The tail number matched his flight. It had been a charter. Paula and Gina's bodies recovered from a debris field scattered over a mile. Pilot, co-pilot and Castle's bodies apparently not recoverable. There had been an explosion when the main part of the plane nosedived into the dirt.

Later reports would discuss how they'd found the DNA of all three men in the wreckage but the damage and resultant fire had destroyed any remains. That an incomprehensible problem with a few nuts and bolts had led to a catastrophic decompression in midair. No chance for survivors. None found.

It was at that point that her life had contracted to the tiny flame that currently burned inside her; just enough to keep her alive but not anywhere sufficient for her to live outside of herself. He'd blown into her life and that flame had grown into a bonfire once they were a couple. Their life together, their happiness had fed and fed it until she no longer recognized the shell of the woman she'd been before him. His passing had removed nearly all of the fuel and she couldn't, didn't want to, find more.

She'd been taken home by someone. Didn't know who, didn't care. They'd tried to involve her in the funeral planning. Without success. Hard to help when she let nothing penetrate the obsidian wall she was hiding behind.

She'd been taken to the funeral. This would be the first time she'd shown much emotion outside of the phone call telling her about his death. Sandwiched between her dad and Alexis in a chair in the front she'd been her usual blank self on the outside. Absent. She'd not really understood what was going on for most of those early days. So withdrawn, concentrating on stilling all of her atoms one by one so she could take the time to consider what the hell had happened to her, to him.

Something though had caught her attention during the service and she'd then realized where she was and what was happening. It was as the (empty) coffin was being lowered into the ground that she'd started shrieking: a high, almost animal sound. She'd fallen off the chair in front of the grave and was trying to crawl into the hole with him (not that he was there) when she'd been bodily scooped up by Espo and Ryan and carried off to a car, arms still extended towards his empty grave. That was the first time she was given sedatives. It would not the last in the coming weeks.

The next few days are now a complete black hole. She has no idea what she did or what anyone else did. Those days simply don't exist for her. Over the next few weeks she very slowly became more aware of her surroundings. Now she can hear conversations from the living room if she cares to. Hears what people say to her. Just doesn't have the energy to respond to any of it. Or give any sign that she is aware of them.

They have no idea she's awake most hours. Reliving their life, their relatively few hours together over and over and over. If only she'd let him in earlier. She'd wasted so much time, for nothing. Held him at a distance for no good reason. And now after being together, truly together for just a year and a half he's gone.

She's not completely helpless. She can get to the toilet to pee. To puke. Then back to the bed, unless someone chooses to dress her and stick her in a chair somewhere. Perhaps at some point she'll even stop caring if she soils herself. She's not sure yet. The totality of her life now and as far as the never ending future holds. Nothing.

It's been two months. Few people visit. She's been placed on indefinite leave at her job. Indefinite is inaccurate as far as she's concerned. Should be permanent. She'll never work again. All she wants is him and he's no longer hers to have. So she has nothing but this cold bed. Her own version of an empty grave. She closes her eyes once more; the darkness descends again. She falls into it willingly. Maybe this time she won't wake.

* * *

He sat in the dark. Of course he could have had lights blazing; there was no real need for it to be dark. Except he likes the dark. It's peaceful. Things move in the dark undetected. You can execute complicated maneuvers in the dark, hidden from others until the plan springs forth too late to stop. The dark is his canvas to play on and he chooses to utilize it whenever he can.

He hadn't been in the dark for long. Just twenty minutes ago he'd had his office bathed in lights as he finished up some pressing matters. Snapping orders for various schemes, sending out his minions to accomplish his wishes. Most of them could operate in the light of day, but some things are better left unseen.

He'd put off reading her report until the very last. He knew it had the power to dramatically alter his mood, for better or worse. Didn't want to chance for worse before finishing other matters.

He was pleased to learn it was for the better. For a while he'd been nervous that all his careful planning, careful execution and tremendous spending were going for naught. It had been very complicated to achieve. A damned nightmare really.

It would have been simple, much easier to arrange a more…permanent solution. He'd chosen otherwise for several reasons. He didn't like to examine them too closely, fearing introspection would make him conclude he'd acted rashly and chosen the wrong path. He never chose incorrectly. Even when he was wrong.

No, this was the right way to proceed. Even though it cost him a fortune and almost didn't work. Really, he had to ensure she was done with him. And he couldn't just kill her. Not anymore. He kind of owed her his life, though that was not a debt that would have completely restrained him. There was more; there always was with her.

The writer had been the main obstacle. He was certain to know everything. Had been involved in trying to keep her safe from the moment they'd removed the person he'd thought was his last blockade to her. Yet even from his early grave that idiot Montgomery had found a way to circumvent him.

Montgomery had been the reason he'd found out about them all those years ago; called his attention to what they'd been doing with those mobsters. His idiocy had been a blessing then, allowing him the leverage he'd required to garner their ill-gotten gains.

He'd never imagined in a million years that this same moronic rookie would grow into a fine cop, a tough captain and apparently a man thoughtful enough to put together enough information to take him down. And then maddeningly hide it from him.

The fury that had erupted once he'd realized he was still at risk after they took out Montgomery had been impressive. One of his office walls still held the scars. Then the writer had become a problem. And more than just the fact that he knew everything. The man was well known; famous. A simple death would have swiveled more eyes his direction than he'd wanted to deal with.

It had been obvious if they just took out the writer she'd fall to pieces. He didn't want to outright kill the man in case it all went sideways. The authorities wouldn't be so thorough if they had a live person to deal with as opposed to a corpse. But he wanted it definitive for her. She had to lose all hope. Only then would he consider her off the chessboard.

So, he'd plotted and plotted, then spent and spent and spent until they had the perfect plan. A plane accident with real deaths. His DNA at the scene. The conclusion reached. He would be stashed away, far away from his true life. Many rounds of drugs and the latest in intensive psychological remapping until he no longer knew _who_ he was or _what_ he was.

They couldn't erase everything of course; had been told by the very expensive doctor they'd hired to introduce elements of the story that matched his past. Similar names to people he knew. But there was a limit. No way could they make him forget his own child for example.

So they'd altered it. Just enough that coupled with the drugs and conditioning he couldn't be sure what was true and what was false. And it all clearly failed initially. Early reports full of frustration and concern they were having to use way too many psychoactive meds. He'd been stubborn, this writer. Tough. But finally now their plan was yielding results.

And she had fallen apart. Even more spectacularly than he'd anticipated. No one suspected a thing. It was the perfect plan. Only involving people he implicitly trusted. And if something did go wrong (though very unlikely to now that it was past 2 months) he still had him alive. Sure, the plan had resulted in some deaths, but they were just minor characters in the story. No one would really care about their loss. Acceptable sacrifices in his mind.

With the newfound success of it all he was finally unfettered. Free at last, free at last. It felt incredibly wonderful. So he sat tonight in the dark, silently celebrating his absolute, hard won freedom. He could now operate without fear. No one was left to oppose him. He now owned the dark. So he sat there in the inky blackness of his element, enjoying his mastery and planning his new campaigns.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Hi everyone. Thanks for sticking through the first two chapters. I know that they were a bit intense, especially Kate's chapter. I wanted to write something pretty dark. I remember high school English, learning about the concept of a tragedy; you take a character that is at the pinnacle of a group (a prince or king for example) and then cut them down. The further they fall the better. My concept was to do the opposite. Take them from the bottom of the hole and build them up. So, there's a clue as to where this all will go eventually. Anyway, no chapter will be as angst ridden as the last one. We can only go up.**

* * *

He awoke with a start. The amount of light streaming in from the half closed curtain told him he'd slept far later than he had in a long time. Perhaps the sleeping pill had been a good idea.

The light hadn't awakened him though; he had been dreaming about her again. He was trying to reach her but she was encased in a seamless black box. He knew she was inside, and if only he could touch her, talk to her, she'd be safe. But he couldn't figure out how to get to her. The danger was palpable and he couldn't determine how to make her safe. It was the fear that finally woke him.

Glancing at the clock, he saw it was nearly 8:30. He would be due to start physical therapy in an hour. Though perhaps with all the snow they wouldn't bother. Still, it was obviously not snowing now and they'd never let him just lie around in bed all morning. He suspected they didn't want him dwelling on his limitations, didn't want him sinking into a depression.

The fact of the matter was that he was already depressed. Not about the physical changes per se, though it did suck that he could no longer walk. No, the absence of his memory weighed much more heavily over him. Memories are funny things. Some things you want to forget, some things you want to hold on to forever.

The reality is that your own personal collection of memories makes you who you are. Without them you simply wake up each morning not knowing what you'd like to eat, how you would like to dress, what you would do with your time. Who you would spend it with. You've been photoshopped into a picture without any true skill. The effect is jarring, to put it mildly.

He reached over to the arm of his wheelchair and maneuvered it so he could transfer into it. It had taken him weeks to build the arm strength and the skill to do this alone. Until then he'd been dependent on them to help. Nothing quite as humiliating as calling for assistance when you need to take a dump.

His room had a hospital grade bed with the ability to move the head and legs up and down. The bathroom had also been modified; the door was wide enough to accommodate his chair and the shower was equipped with a plastic chair. He simply rolled up to it, transferred into it and rolled it into the shower. The counter and sink were chair height. Nothing had been spared so that he would be comfortable.

He'd been troubled at first by the obvious wealth. Private therapy. Highly modified house for his sake. Huge property. He'd wondered what his job had been to produce this much luxury. A job he was unlikely to be able to continue.

He professed to be relieved when Meredith reassured him that he himself was unneeded to maintain this lifestyle. She'd explained a large inheritance from her father's side of the family. They'd founded some banks in California when that state was first developing. None of the subsequent generations had needed to ever work for a living.

So, he guessed he'd married into money. It made him feel worse somehow. They simply lived off the proceeds of men and women who'd worked hard to achieve success. It didn't feel right to him, but this had apparently been his life. Luxury, privilege and no need to lift a finger to make anything he wanted to happen.

He couldn't imagine what his days had been like before the accident and the memory loss. He was bored stiff when he wasn't being tortured in physical therapy. There were no books. She'd told him he hated to read. No computers. Apparently he was a Luddite. Not even pens or paper. He'd looked for some once, thinking if he could write down some of the dreams when he first woke it would help him make sense of it, before all the sensations and feelings drained from him like water down the spout. That's when Meredith told him that not only did he not enjoy reading but that he'd considered writing with distaste as well.

There was a TV, though no cable or satellite. Instead, a DVD player and some nondescript comedies. He hadn't found them remotely funny, couldn't imagine how shallow he must have been _before_ to think they were amusing.

No, he was now trapped in a cage of his own making. A luxurious one, to be sure, but still a cage. They lived in a remote corner of northwestern Wyoming. She said it had been at his insistence. That he'd wanted a large property, far from others. He'd liked the solitude.

As to what he'd done prior to the accident, well, she said he spent time with her. They'd enjoyed physical activities like skiing, snowmobiling in the winter. Swimming and hiking in the summer. Traveling. None of which was an option right now.

His boredom made grumpy and cranky, which in turn made him feel guilty as well. Guilty because he often snapped at her, griped at things she said. She hadn't asked for any of this either. She'd been great. Patient. Understanding. But he couldn't remember her beyond the last few months. How was that a foundation for a lifetime?

After getting ready for the morning, he rolled out to the kitchen, intending to grab some breakfast before John, the physical therapist, started his session. He found John drinking some water in the kitchen.

"Morning Mr. Rodgers."

"John. How were the roads."

"Not great, but I've got a Jeep. I like the challenge."

Richard had started making some toast. He kept his breakfast fairly Spartan; the strain of PT precluding eating a large meal.

"Have you seen Meredith this morning?"

John nodded. "She headed out to the barn after she let me in."

Meredith spent most of her time in the barn, a large outbuilding visible from the west side of the house, when John was with Richard. Richard had asked her what was in the barn, not able to remember of course. She'd flashed a tight look at him, and then told him there were a few horses and some livestock that they'd kept around.

He felt absolutely no connection to any animals. It seemed so strange to hear things about his former activities and to feel nothing more than mild interest at what he used to do. It seemed as though descriptions of his life pre-accident were no more meaningful to him than that of a stranger's life.

He couldn't help but ask if he'd been very involved in the care of the animals. _Before_. She'd said he had, that she'd rarely had to manage them. Yet another failing on his part. None of it rings any bells for him. He'd hoped there might be an underlying connection to something from his former life, though not having one with his wife of twenty years probably precluded having one with an animal. Yet he'd hoped. Now she was the one spending time with whatever animal friends he'd had. He'd asked her once if she could maybe wheel him out there, certain they could make it work somehow. She'd just laughed and said there was nothing much of interest in the barn and it was too cold.

However, he noticed that she spent quite a bit of time out there. Was never present in the house when John was working with him. He didn't know if that was because she preferred to be away for a while, if she enjoyed being out in the barn, or if she hated seeing the torture John put him through during their sessions.

"Ready to start Mr. Rodgers?"

"Do I have a choice?" He sounded snarky. Ungrateful. Didn't really mean it, but these sessions were so draining.

John ignored his outburst and simply walked towards the room that had been converted into a gym. Slash torture chamber.

One thing he could say for sure about his life before was that he'd been no Olympic athlete. He hadn't been fat, but he'd been solid and his upper body strength had not been at a level that allowed a smooth transition into life as a paraplegic.

Much of his early sessions with John focused on this area out of need. He had to be able to support himself with his arms and shoulders in order to transfer from the chair to other positions. He was finally seeing the fruit of these workouts.

Now John was having him incorporate core strength as well. They would also do some range of motion and stretching exercises with his legs so the muscles wouldn't atrophy as quickly.

Richard wished he could remember more after the accident; wished he remembered the conferences with the physicians. His memory really began here in this house, after his apparent discharge from the hospital. He's not seen a physician since; their recommendations for rehab accomplished through the hiring of John to tend to him in his own home.

If he could remember the medical consultations, he'd like to see once more the imaging of his injury. Meredith told him he'd had a broken back, which had caused the paralysis. It had been a partial paralysis; then she explained that he couldn't control his leg muscles anymore but still had sensation and his other _parts_ worked. It was all so strange to him. He felt if he just had the benefit of a discussion with a physician it might help him accept it all more readily, but he didn't want to make Meredith feel he didn't trust her, didn't believe her explanations.

What he'd not mentioned to Meredith or to John was that sometimes it felt like he could almost move his legs. That they were weak, but with just a little more effort he'd be able to twitch them. Then, with time and work, maybe he'd be able to do more. He was nervous about saying anything, concerned that if he said something that she might view it as unwillingness on his part to accept this chair, this life. All that she'd done for him.

So, for now, he remained quiet. Perhaps if he were able to work alone on the legs and get some results; perhaps then he'd mention it. She was sure to be excited. After all, he'd be much less dependent on her if he could move his legs, maybe even walk with assistance. What a difference that would make in their life together. Perhaps that simple ability would help trigger his memories, heal his brain too.

They worked for several hours; ten minute breaks doled out when John could see he was about to reach his limit.

"Every week you improve Mr. Rodgers. I know it's hard to see at times, but you've come a long way since we started."

"I know John. I can move myself without help now. Still have a ways to go though."

"As hard as you work, I have no doubts that you'll get there soon."

Richard was gratified by the response. He knew deep down that he had made a lot of progress, but it was hard to acknowledge when John insisted on demonstrating how much he still had to do.

John kept track of Richard's progress in a notebook. He had each exercise on a separate page, with the number of reps and the weight (if any) marked for each day. Richard loved looking at the progress over time, but he also had a more subtle reason for asking to look at it every other day or so. He coveted the blank pages at the back.

Early in their relationship he'd asked John for some paper, playing it off as a way for him to keep track of his exercise outside of their sessions. John had laughed and told him he'd been asked not to share any with him by Meredith. When asked why, he'd been told he had a tendency to be a bit obsessive and they didn't want him focusing on exercise so much outside of their PT.

He'd not brought it up again, but instead started his campaign to handle the notebook as often as possible. He figured his chance would come eventually.

That chance finally came. Today. John had stepped out to use the bathroom; no doubt all the water he'd been drinking before they'd started was responsible. He wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth. As soon as John left the room, he'd rolled over to the shelf where the notebook rested.

He tore out 3 sheets, figuring that was enough to write on if he kept his script small and that 3 sheets were few enough to keep the theft from attracting attention. He folded them immediately in half and stuffed them down the back of his pants. John no longer needed to help him with chair transfers, so was unlikely to notice extra paper stuffed in Richard's pants.

Luck was with him; John returned after Richard had already moved back to where he'd been originally and they finished the session without the therapist noticing anything was amiss.

Richard typically took a nap after the incredibly draining therapy, so he wasn't concerned about disappearing into his room. She wouldn't think it strange behavior, so he wasn't worried about her catching him with the paper right now. In fact, Meredith hadn't been in his room much, as far as he knew, but he didn't want to discover his trove either. He wasn't sure why he felt she'd be upset with him; he just wanted to keep them to himself. Besides, once he found something to write with he planned on journaling his dreams and those were definitely things he couldn't share with her.

He was so close to being able to write them down, hoping it would trigger a better understanding of what was happening to him. For the first time since he could remember waking up he was starting to have some hope that he'd be able to come through all that had happened to him. He hid the blank paper under the mattress and then moved out of the chair to the bed. This time he welcomed sleep, wondering if he'd dream. If he'd dream of her.

* * *

She sat in the dark. Near dark anyway. The room was windowless. It wasn't large, but was crammed with equipment. Most of it for communication with the outside world. They were so remote, it was all necessary. The bulk of the barn hid the satellite dishes and antennas that fed the computers in the room.

Her routine was to come to the barn once John arrived. She felt she couldn't leave Castle alone in the house. There was nothing to discover, she kept all the information here in the barn. She just didn't want him to feel he should be snooping. He needed to learn to trust her; rely on her. Trust was not built on one person sneaking around the other.

Thus, in the house she tried to be as open as possible. After all, there was nothing he could find there and he wouldn't be able to get to the barn without assistance.

There were no animals. That was all a lie to give her an excuse to come out here. She had to spend hours here initially. Part of her job was to look through all the newspapers around the country and make sure no one was suspicious. The world thought he'd died in a plane crash. Even his fiancée believed it. No one was looking for him, but it wouldn't pay to be complacent.

There were initially lots of memorials in papers, on you tube. On TV. Richard Castle had been a popular author, but even more the man himself had made quite an impression on people from all walks of life all over the US, even the world. They'd all wanted to discuss the Richard Castle they knew; the man they'd treasured. It had been overwhelming at first, sorting through it all. Even his mother and daughter had released statements regarding the man they'd loved. The one glaring absence had been from her. It was ominous, initially. She'd spent an inordinate amount of time in this room fearing that Beckett was going to unleash a through investigation, pry into the whole thing. Close scrutiny would have led to their undoing in those critical early days. But she had said nothing. Nothing at all. Finally they'd realized she'd essentially taken herself out of the picture by becoming a shell of a human. Then, and only then, they'd relaxed a bit. It looked like they were safe after all. Yet she was told to keep watching. So she did.

Still, she'd never found any hint of suspicion. With enough money to lubricate the necessary palms her employer had accomplished a major feat. Richard Castle simply no longer existed; reborn in a remote Wyoming ranch as the paraplegic Richard Rodgers. She'd had her doubts in the beginning. It seemed needlessly complicated. She would have just killed the guy. Yet that was strictly forbidden.

It would have been much easier, but she'd wanted to be paid. So, alive he was. And after all the mind altering drugs and constant babble delivered to his ears about the story they wanted him to know, by the time the psych guy was ready to wake him up the man didn't know up from down.

She'd felt a bit sorry for him, but not sorry enough to forgo her check. She understood what was expected and was ready to deliver. They'd gotten the Botox injections done just before they really woke him up. They'd worked marvelously. She wasn't sure if they'd need to repeat them; she was no medic. But they'd made him believe he was paralyzed, with the added bonus of preserving his ability to function as a male.

That was one gift that she planned on taking advantage of. She'd seen him naked when he was still being conditioned with the psych stuff. Enough to know that she definitely wanted him to think of her as his wife in all aspects. First though he had to start trusting her. They were getting closer.

After reviewing all the websites she needed to, she next sent another report to the boss. It didn't go directly to his email, but to his most trusted aide. She knew exactly who she was working with; this was a necessarily small operation as the chances of success went down with each new person introduced. She was hoping if he were elected president, like they said he would, that he'd remember her and throw more work her way. In the meantime, impressing the boss was the best way to rise from the ranks. She had to be truthful; who knew what the muscle bound meat head John would say if she tried to stretch the truth in her favor a bit and he called her out on it.

No, safer to report the facts. She was just incredibly thankful she was able to write positives these days. No one looking for him. Check. He was starting to trust her. Check. He still had no idea what had really happened to him. Check. Yes, overall this had been a great week. Perhaps soon she'd be able to scratch that itch she'd developed between her legs too. He was almost there.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Once again tremendous thanks to everyone reading and reviewing this story. Some have found it too dark. This is the start of the climb out, but I'm not the kind of person who makes everything better in the space of a paragraph. I want to see the struggle to happiness because then you know how much they deserve it. So while I am certain of how this will end (and my profile will tell you that much) they will have to work toward it. It's the journey that shapes you, not the ending. **

**I'd like to make a special shout out to dtrekker for the cover art. I absolutely love it and am very grateful for her making it for me. And as always special thanks to those who take the time to let me know what they think. I have a very busy job and I can't always be as fast about updating or answering every review, but I cherish each one. You guys keep me going even when I'm on call (like today) and am supposed to be doing various doctor type stuff in the hospital but instead find myself furiously typing out this chapter. :)**

* * *

He awoke with a start. Long hours spent plotting and planning were taking their toll. He'd allotted an hour and a half on the couch in his office. That was the length of a sleep cycle, and he'd long ago figured out it would give him the maximum benefit ratio of time spent with his eyes closed (i.e. wasted time) and the rest his body requires to continue functioning. This type of nap had become a signature of sorts for him and for years had served him well. He certainly got less sleep than anyone else that he knew, but he also was able to spend a lot more time awake and planning than anyone else.

It had been a real advantage over the years; these days he was finally reaping the benefits as everything coalesced nicely with his position at the apex of the numerous plans assured. Yet, for the last few months he was having trouble sleeping for the first time in his life. He'd never felt exhaustion like this at any previous time. It was inconceivable, yet that didn't change that it was.

He'd set an alarm for the exact amount of time; his extreme fatigue made him narcoleptic, so as soon as he'd stretched out on the couch he'd sank into the realm of the sandman.

Years of being who he was and doing what he did inured him to what others might call nightmares. No, his dreams were never haunted by the unfortunates who'd been in his way. His dreams were of the future possibilities. The paths opened up to him by his actions. Reflections on past actions were a waste of time and memory.

So why was he once again wide awake a good forty minutes before his alarm was set to rouse him? What had intruded on his self-imposed slumber? Why couldn't he sleep?

It wasn't anyone from his staff; they were aware of his nap and wouldn't disturb him for the world. His phone was on silent. No tweets or chirps or notifications allowed until the alarm was needed.

No, he was still alone in his office. It hadn't been an external force that had awakened him. Which left…

No, it couldn't have been anything from his own mind. The same mind that craved sleep so badly in the first place would surely never startle him awake prior to a completed sleep cycle.

He tried to relax back into the couch, seeking comfort from its supportive cushions once again. Had he been dreaming? The latest dreams that he remembered were of large sandstone neoclassical mansions. Especially anything designed by James Hoban. These were quite acceptable dreams. Exciting.

As he drifted back to sleep bits and pieces of his last dream started to come back. He was giving acceptance speeches. His family was picking out bedrooms and getting used to secret service agents. They were causing national sensations over what puppy they bought. He was waving to cheering crowds as he boarded helicopters or Air Force One. He was solving problems and was adored by millions.

He was suddenly in an alley, alone. Then an abrupt, sharp pain erupted in his back. As he collapsed he was suddenly in a modest house facing a police officer. He couldn't understand what the officer was saying but as the other's mouth moved he was overcome with a profound sense of loss.

He was suddenly standing over an open grave. The sense of grief at the sight was so overwhelming that he collapsed to his knees. It crushed him. He'd never be able to move again. As he felt himself being ground into dust by the oppressive weight of grief he realized he couldn't breathe against the pressure. He opened his mouth, trying to suck in any air he could but his diaphragm wasn't strong enough to work against the grief. He was going to suffocate.

He awoke with a start. Twenty minutes until the alarm was due. He couldn't understand why he kept waking up. He had no recollection of any dreams other than that of offices oval in shape. Rooms named after former presidents. Power beyond imagining. Power to truly shape the world. Yet he was powerless to sleep. He didn't understand what had changed. And not knowing the cause meant fixing it was beyond his ken as well. A new emotion was starting to sniff around his closed heart, tendrils of it clutching his gut. A foreign one for him, until now. One that he recognized, having released it often enough in those in his way.

Fear.

* * *

She lay in the dark. Not sure of the time of day; blackout curtains in their bedroom ensured near black suffused the room even at high noon on a cloudless day. She preferred the dark now. It was a mirror for how she felt without him. She lay quietly, like always. Yet she was aware of her surroundings.

Her father has entered the room. She senses his presence; the sound of his breathing is different than Alexis or Martha. He's started helping dress her despite his profound initial reluctance. He'd thought she'd come around eventually but there have been absolutely no signs of change and he'd finally given in. He'd never imagined he'd have to dress his adult daughter. Yet here they are.

"Oh Katie. We can't keep this up. It's killing Alexis; she's taken the semester off, but she feels like she's lost both her mother and her father. Martha and I are both too old to care for you all the time. You're slowly committing suicide; not eating. Not drinking enough. Is that what you want?"

She wants him back. Anything short of that is nothing worth doing anything about.

"I asked Lanie to come over today. I know she hasn't been here for a few weeks. I thought maybe she's the most likely to get through to you. She should be here soon. Let's get you dressed."

She allows him to move her extremities around in order to dress her. He is too embarrassed to put on her real underwear; leaves her in the panties and camisole she'd been placed in last night by Martha. She doesn't care what she wears. They could have left her naked and it wouldn't have mattered to her.

He pulls her to a standing position. The change in position is enough to make her dizzy but he doesn't notice. He leads her into the living room and she sinks into a chair at the same time he is pushing her into it. It seems to be mid morning judging by the way the sun is streaming into the uncovered windows. The light hurts her eyes, so long adjusted to the dark of the bedroom. Her head spins some more, unsettled by the movement and the sudden light, but she doesn't get sick as she expected. The dizziness slowly resolves. She's not concerned about it. It simply is. It's not a sensation that leads to anything about _him_ so it's not something to worry about. It will be or it won't.

She has no idea how much time passes before she hears a knock on the door. She hears Lanie's unmistakable voice conferring with her dads. Then Lanie is approaching. Speaking. Trying for a response.

"Kate, I'm so glad you're up. It's good to see you sitting in a chair."

Silence. She hears her moving to the front, sitting next to her. Hears the hiss of breath indrawn as her best friend sees her up close for the first time in several weeks. Apparently not a good sight. Not that she cares.

"Katherine Beckett, what are you doing to yourself? He wouldn't want you to waste away like this."

Probably true. But he's dead. So he has no wants currently. Unlike her. She wants him.

She remained mute, as always. No eye contact, no interaction. She could hear what they said, but it didn't touch her deep inside. She was truly walled off from everything.

Lanie had given up trying to talk to her.

"Is she talking to anyone? Interacting with anyone?"

Jim's voice came from behind her. "No. We dress her. I walked her out here. She'll use the bathroom without assistance, but that's it."

"She looks like she's lost a lot of weight. Still won't eat beyond the shakes?"

Jim must have assented silently because Lanie suddenly pulled her phone out. Finding the contact she wanted, she dialed and waited, still sitting next to Kate.

"Sharon? Hi, it's Lanie Parrish. Good, thanks. Sorry to bother you this morning. Listen, I have a question for you. I need to know how much blood to draw from a woman in her 30's who has lost a significant amount of weight and has become withdrawn."

There is a long pause as Lanie listens intently. "No, it's not a corpse. Yet." Kate feels her shift on the couch, her body language betraying just how uncomfortable this conversation is for her friend. The discomfort is her friend's fault; she hadn't asked for her to come and see her. "No, it's actually a friend. I'm at her place right now and she looks awful. Her family is caring for her but I'm very concerned we may need to hospitalize her unless something changes."

Another silence. "I can't ask that of you. Are you sure? Well, we'd appreciate it. Deeply. Yes, I'll text you the address. See you soon. And Sharon, thank you so much."

Lanie ends the conversation and stands up to speak with Jim.

"That was a friend of mine. She's an internist, one of the best. She mostly practices as a hospitalist now, but has some patients in the office too. She volunteered to come over and look at Kate. I think we're near the point of no return from a nutrition standpoint; if we don't get her help she's going to die."

Jim doesn't audibly reply. Kate remains seated; the conversation is about her but doesn't concern her. Doctors have been to see her, but nothing helped. Even Dr. Burke had given up on her. Her family are the only ones unwilling to let her go.

Twenty minutes later Kate is still seated in the chair, lost in her own living nightmare that won't end, when she feels that familiar feeling building that means she needs to go puke.

She stands, dizzy again, and makes her way unsteadily to the bedroom and the office beyond. Once her stomach regains some equilibrium she moves back to her normal position on the bed. She feels safer in the dark. No one can see her; hiding inside is much easier.

Lanie enters the room twenty minutes later. She is accompanied by a tall, stout woman who is carrying a leather bag. Kate shows no outward sign that they've entered the room.

"Hi Kate. I'm Sharon. I'm a friend of Lanie's. She told me that you've recently lost your fiancée. I'm so sorry to hear that. She also told me you've stopped eating and interacting with everyone. Your family is very concerned about you. Lanie asked me to see you because I'm a doctor and she's worried that you may need to be in the hospital. I'm going to examine you briefly and we're going to do some lab work to see if you're getting enough nutrition to survive on or not."

Kate wasn't paying attention. Nothing could be done to her physically that would alter the mental cage she'd escaped into. They could do anything they wanted to her; she would ignore them as usual.

Deciding Kate's lack of response was an assent, the doctor did a brief exam.

"Has she been weighed recently?"

"Not that I know of. She's always been thin, but this is far lower than I've ever seen her."

"Let's get her up and get a weight. Do you know her height?"

"Yes, she's 5 feet 9 inches."

Lanie had brought the bathroom scale into the bedroom and she and Sharon tugged Kate into a standing position on it. Kate was dizzy again when they stood her up. It seemed to be happening more frequently. She stepped off the scale and headed back to the bathroom to vomit again.

"Where is she going?"

"They told me she'll still use the bathroom independently, but she was just in there."

Lanie had followed her, saw her puking.

"Kate, have you been vomiting a lot? God, why am I even asking you? I know you don't seem to care about what happens to you, but there are people here who love you and want you to get better. Me included. Maybe you think we don't matter, but you're not the only one who lost him you know. What about Alexis? Martha? What about your dad when you finally fall into a coma from a lack of food. God Kate, you're so frustrating. Let me help you."

Kate simply walked past her, intent on the bed. She'd heard the truth in Lanie's voice, acknowledged to herself that she had some good points. However, she felt it was too late; she was nearly all gone from this life. There wasn't enough to hold her to earth now.

She lay back on their bed, assuming her normal position curled so she faced his side of the bed, the empty expanse reminding her of her loss. She felt Sharon approach her again.

"Kate, you weigh 20 pounds below normal for your size. That's pretty serious. I'm going to draw some labs now and I'll call Lanie later to let her know what I think we need to do next."

Kate didn't even notice the prick of the needle. She did notice they finally left her alone about 5 minutes later; Lanie stooped down and tried to hug her before leaving the room.

"I'm sorry for being mad at you. I know his loss has driven you far from us, but Kate we love you. Please come back."

Then she was alone again. Alone in the dark.

* * *

She sat up in the dark. She'd been unconscious. Had dreamt that she was locked in a black box. Its seamless walls had been closing in on her. She had initially welcomed the crushing oblivion that seemed to be her only fate when something had changed. She'd sensed something, someone beyond the confines of the box. It, they, were trying to get the box open, get to her. And she'd suddenly wanted them to. For the first time in the time from his death she'd wanted to claw her way out of the darkness, claw her way to the light that whatever awaited her outside represented.

Just as she'd started to try pushing against the unyielding wall the other presence had disappeared and she'd snapped awake. It was a strange sensation, remembering her longing for the thing on the other side of the wall. Disquieting; she'd only ever wanted him. What did this dream mean?

As the dream faded, her awareness of the room returned. She could hear voices in the living room. She could identify her father. Martha. Then she heard Lanie's voice. Still here apparently. There was a pause in the conversation then she heard Alexis' distinct voice arguing something.

Kate lay in the bed, not caring why they were arguing. Suddenly the bedroom door burst open and Lanie and Alexis walked in. Crossing the room, Lanie pulled her into a sitting position on the bed and sat next to her. Alexis carefully sat at her feet, avoiding looking at his side of the bed. The side that yawned to their side, his presence no longer filling it.

"Kate, Sharon called me with some of the results of your blood work. You're mildly dehydrated, but that's easily fixed."

Kate didn't move. If this was all they wanted to tell her she didn't understand why they'd burst into the room and bothered her in the first place.

"Kate, there's more. Sharon ran the usual tests and some strange ones that I would never have thought of. Not everything is back, but one test was positive and I think it may shake you out of this funk. It's got to."

Lanie pulled her into a hug, her arm around Kate's shoulders now.

"She did a beta HCG just to be thorough and it was positive. Kate, you're pregnant. That's why you've been puking."

For a long moment Kate remained statue still. The words had hit her with the force of an explosion; the black box she'd willingly trapped herself in was obliterated with the three simple words 'Kate, you're pregnant.'

For the first time since he'd been taken from her she looked, truly looked, into someone's eyes. Lanie nodded, tears filling her eyes as she finally saw her friend looking at her with recognition. Kate's shoulders started shaking first, then her whole body.

Alexis threw herself into their embrace too. They all three cried together. Mostly in joy, but in grief too. That he wasn't here for this. He wouldn't be able to experience this child with her, with them. Kate felt gravity returning to her body, tethered once again firmly to her family and friends. And it felt safe. Not as good as when he'd been there, but it was still a great feeling.

Jim and Martha must have been watching from the office. They raced in when they saw Kate come back to them and all five ended up in a jumble of legs, arms and tears. Enveloped by her family Kate felt the shutters on her heart lift up enough to let in some light. It was going to be enough. She could go on; for their child's sake. For his memory. For them. For her. It wasn't how she wanted it, but it was enough.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Now over 15,000 words. Yay!**

* * *

Something was going on with him. She'd noticed he seemed a bit distracted, not paying as much attention to her. She'd probed a bit, asking him pointed questions and getting nowhere.

The next few days he continued to act funny. She realized he was spending even more time awake at night, alone. Finally he confessed that the dreams had been especially bothersome. He was working through them, just needed the time at night to process things. She was ok with that. They'd continued to make progress during the day.

Last night she'd heard him get up as usual. It was a routine that she could almost use as a clock. Then he'd broken it all into pieces when she'd heard him go to bed a few hours earlier than usual. When she'd gotten up for good this morning she'd poked her head into his room and saw he was sleeping quite soundly. Maybe the dreams were finally fading; at least not bothering him as much.

Out in the barn she'd run through all her usual web sites; nothing had popped. What was of the most interest to her today was the weather forecast. Their remote location made them a bit more vulnerable to bad weather. Apparently there was a cold front predicted to move in with enough moisture around to cause a large snow storm.

They had a generator if needed and a wood burning furnace; plenty of wood had been stocked against a future need. Food would be the issue. She'd have to go to town, stock up. A trip that might take up to four hours, depending on the roads and the craziness of the store. Wyomingites are a hardy people, but even the hardiest have to have food supplies to last through a storm.

The real problem was with Castle. She could go to the store, but she didn't dare take him. What if someone recognized him? Or what if he saw or heard his real name or something that triggered his memories? No, it was not a risk she could take. She considered having John stay with him, but tomorrow was his day off and the man was particularly fussy about his hours.

The only solution was to leave Castle home alone. She was no longer concerned he'd get into trouble physically. He was strong enough now he could support his entire body with his arms and shoulders for minutes at a time. The physical therapy had wrought impressive changes in his physique. Her only worry was leaving him alone to snoop around. Yet she'd ensured she had nothing of interest or value around in the house.

She was going to have to start trusting him at some point. He'd given her no signs or concerns at all about his memory or his commitment to the story they'd given him. Perhaps it was time to let him spread his wings just a tiny bit. She knew he despised being treated like he was helpless; they'd used that motivation to their advantage in getting him to do the physical therapy. Yes, it was time. In many ways this might actually help her in the campaign to win him over. After all if he knew she trusted him to be alone, perhaps he would trust more in her.

Mind made up, she started making lists of the stores they'd need. She'd take her time and make sure they were well equipped. Maybe she'd splurge on something sexy. That might get his attention even more quickly.

* * *

Empty. He swore under his breath. Why did they live in a house without any pens or pencils? Was there something wrong with them? How did they make lists or letters? It was unnatural, in his mind at least. He'd been searching since the day he successfully confiscated the paper. There had been absolutely no luck the first day. He'd been confident that he'd be successful the next day. How hard could it be?

It was nearly impossible. It took him nearly 4 more days before he found a pen. He had almost no time alone to search for one; Meredith was with him nearly all day long; when she wasn't, he was with John. After a few days of waiting fruitlessly for a moment to himself, he decided to use the cover of night when he often spent time contemplating his new life in the dark of the living room.

Given his limited search range from a chair, it still took a while. He'd learned to move the chair fairly silently, but still was vigilant about every creak and groan the floor made. If she did wake up he had a flimsy excuse at the ready.

It was the kitchen that turned out to be the mother lode. One drawer in particular; they'd been as far back as possible, likely long forgotten. Nevertheless he chose to take just one pen of the several. Perhaps she did know they were there and would notice the absence of all. One was enough.

He'd then returned to his room, adrenaline from the victory of the find chasing any vestige of fatigue away. He'd tried to sleep, hoping to dream. Yet when he did awaken a few hours later there were no dream memories to journal. He'd slept deeply but darkly. Disappointed, he prepared for his usual day. His melancholy made it slow work.

Meredith was absent by the time he entered the kitchen.

"Morning John. How was the drive?"

"Morning Richard. It's cold, but nice and clear out. Had a great view of the Big Dipper when I first went out to warm up my truck. They're saying we'll probably have more snow in a couple days."

"Meredith went to the barn?"

"Yes, soon as I got here a few minutes ago."

Richard had made his usual toast and grabbed some orange juice for a quick jolt of energy. Once he was ready, the two men made their way to the training room.

He sweated and strained through his workout. Eager to be really tired so he'd nap well afterwards. And dream. Hopefully of her. Or Alexis. Or both. Now that he was prepared to write things down, help remember he surely wouldn't stop dreaming about them.

After their session John bid him goodbye. John usually stayed in the house waiting for Meredith to return while Richard napped. Often he took advantage of the great gym to do some training of his own; by the time Richard woke up from most naps he was gone and Meredith was back in the house.

"Richard, if there is a lot of snow I might not be back for a few days. Just keep training on the stuff we did today."

"I will. Thanks for the session and be careful driving."

Richard wheeled into his room eagerly. He went to the bathroom first to wipe off the sweat and grime buildup from the morning. Feeling refreshed, he went back to the bedroom and ensured the door was firmly shut before he lifted the mattress to retrieve the paper and pen hidden there earlier. Placing them on the bedside table in anticipation of having something to write down later brought a grin to his face. He then made the transfer to the bed without difficulty. Naptime was here.

* * *

He was walking around a city. It was a very large city. There were restaurants and diners, lots of people on the sidewalks. It should have felt claustrophobic to someone used to living in the wide open West but instead it felt invigorating. He saw a store up the block that seemed especially inviting. As soon as he saw it he knew he had to go in.

It was a lovely little coffee shop. He sat down at an empty table and a cup of coffee appeared in front of him. He sipped; it was the most delicious taste he'd ever had. He'd closed his eyes while drinking the coffee and when he opened them he was no longer alone.

"Alexis."

"Hi Dad. How are you doing?"

"I'm better. How are you? How is Africa?"

The red head looked confused. Instead of answering him she abruptly stood up and screamed.

"Why did you leave us?"

"I didn't leave you. You left us."

Suddenly it seemed like Alexis could no longer see him.

"Dad? Dad? Where are you? We need you. She needs you."

"Alexis I'm right here! I'm right here!"

Alexis and turned, searching for him. She was starting to move away. He tried to stand, follow but suddenly found himself back in the wheelchair. It's wheels were locked and he couldn't get them to move. As he struggled to flip the brakes off each wheel without success she wandered further and further away.

"Stop Alexis. I'm behind you. I'm right here!"

She paused for a moment.

"Dad, you need to come back. We nearly lost her. She can't function without you. I miss you too. Come back to us. Come back soon."

She'd started moving again, away from him down what appeared to be an endless tunnel. Her words were fading as she moved inexorably away. He stopped struggling with the chair, heartbroken to watch her disappear. As soon as he stopped struggling he realized he could simply stand. He leapt up, started to run into the tunnel after her when the floor dropped beneath him and he was suddenly falling.

He awoke with a jerk, the sensation of falling still with him. He was safe in his bed. It took a second to shake off the sleep and then he suddenly grinned, reached over and grabbed the paper and pen. He wrote down the entire dream, so vivid and fresh in his mind. He seemed to remember past dreams, vague wisps of memory now, in which Alexis had begged him to come back to her. It was a strange dream. He wasn't sure what his subconscious was trying to tell him except that physically he was different. Maybe that was the meaning? He needed to keep working on his health until he could return to his old form?

He returned the paper and pen to the table and repositioned himself in bed. Lying on his back he rubbed his upper thighs. They felt normal for the most part. Maybe a little thinner, lack of weight bearing was leading to muscle loss. He tried moving his toes but nothing happened. He concentrated on moving any part of his legs. It felt like it was just out of reach. He let out an explosive sigh: nothing. He'd keep trying, but for now he just wanted to go back to sleep. Maybe this time she'd be there.

* * *

He was walking again. This time he was walking inside what looked like a police station. There were cops everywhere but none of them paid any attention to him. He watched as they came and went through the front door. It was a beehive of activity. There was an elevator at the back of the main room. Curious, he got on it with some of the cops.

The first floor he got off on said robbery. Most of the cops on this floor seemed to be talking on their phones. It was relatively quiet. And boring after a few minutes. He went back to the elevator and went up a few more floors.

After visiting Vice and then Gangs and Narcotics he found himself on the Homicide floor. It looked almost familiar, though he didn't recognize any of the people walking around. He made his way through the open center part and saw two detectives sitting at desks next to each other. One was Hispanic. Medium build and quite fit looking. The other was smaller, thinner and looked like he had some Irish blood. He felt quite drawn to them, so walked up to their desks.

He'd discovered on the other floors that he could not get the attention of any of the cops in this dream. He'd tried talking to them, touching them. Nothing happened. It was almost like he was a ghost. An observer only in their presence. So, he listened and watched. So far nothing had happened of much interest. Yet these two detectives seemed so familiar, so comfortable to him. He hoped they would give him some insight into what this dream was all about.

They were working for a few minutes, silent until after the stern looking woman in the captain's office walked to the elevator and left the floor. Putting down their pens and ignoring the stacks of paper on their desks they turned to each other and started tossing a baseball back and forth as they talked.

"Lanie said she was completely shocked by her appearance. She said she looked near death." The Hispanic one spoke first.

"We hadn't been over there for a few weeks. It was killing Jenny to see her go down so fast. And I'll be honest bro, it was killing me too."

"I know. I didn't think it would get worse after we had to carry her away from his grave, but I guess I was wrong. No one in her family could do anything. Lanie's sure she wouldn't have lived more than a few more weeks if nothing had changed."

Richard didn't know who they were talking about, but it sounded serious. He couldn't imagine what kind of tragedy would lead a person to give up on their own life so utterly. He found himself wishing he could comfort whoever they were discussing.

"So what happened when they told her?"

"Lanie said she was in their bed as usual. She and Alexis went into the bedroom and pulled her up so she was sitting. Like usual it was like she didn't even see them. Then when Lanie told her she was pregnant there were a few seconds when she thought she hadn't heard her or that it didn't make a difference. Scariest moment of her life Lanie told me later. Then Kate suddenly started shaking and she could see them again. They all hugged, Jim and Martha all in there together. And she was back to them. Just like that."

"Well, she has something to live for now. It's going to be hard without him, but she has all of us."

"Yeah bro, she has all of us."

Something softly clicked at this point. Neither detective seemed to notice it, but the sound was enough to make Richard look around for the source. When he turned away from the detectives he suddenly found himself in a windowless room. It was empty except for a black, rectangular box.

It was the same box he'd seen before; seamless. He approached it, feeling nervous and anxious for no apparent reason as he drew closer. He wasn't sure he wanted to see the box, yet he didn't have a choice. Even if he stopped walking, he was still drawn closer and closer.

The box was waist high, supported by some type of table underneath. He could see from the side it looked unchanged from previous dreams. It was when he was up next to it that he noticed the change: the top was no longer opaque. He could see inside. She was there. She looked peaceful, eyes closed. Sleeping? Or dead? He couldn't tell. Her long brown hair lay in waves around her head. She was the most beautiful creature he could ever imagine.

He stood watching her for some time, unsure how long. Nothing changed. He longed for her. He wanted to touch her. Maybe kiss her? Perhaps that would wake her up? Like a fairytale princess. Except he was no prince.

Impetuously he reached out to touch the box, try to open it when he felt himself being sucked back toward consciousness. He stretched reaching for her, screamed out against the force pulling him back. He poured his entire energy into trying to stay with her but could feel he was losing the battle. Just as he was pulling away she moved. In that instant he saw her eyes blink open, lock on his. Then the moment was lost and he was awake again.

This time he didn't bother mulling over his thoughts. He just grabbed the paper and started writing. It was a jumble in some ways, but he felt he could reproduce the whole conversation between the two detectives verbatim. Finishing after five or six minutes, he took the time to read it all, consider it all in detail.

The conversation was truly the most striking, strangest thing about the whole dream. Richard had avidly listened to the whole story. When they mentioned his daughter's name he was shocked and almost missed the rest of it. What did Alexis have to do with any of this? Then when they said the name 'Kate' he'd felt a piercing pain in his heart. He didn't know why. He wasn't aware that he knew anyone named Kate. Just writing it down had brought a surge of emotion. Then there was the woman in the box. Whenever he saw her in his dreams he felt overcome with love and need. Yet he had no idea who she was. At least now she was visible within her prison. Perhaps if he continued to dream of her and was able to journal it all it would finally make sense.

He stretched his upper body and then transferred back to the chair. He grabbed the paper and pen and returned them to his hiding spot, then started to wheel back to the door. It was slightly ajar; he knew he'd closed it earlier. Meredith must have looked in on him; she'd done it before. He'd been careful to put the paper and pen on the side away from the door for this very reason, feeling fairly confident she wouldn't notice them if she were to just peek in. Perhaps it would be safer to hide them under the other pillow in the future.

He glanced at the clock; despite all the dreaming he'd been doing, he was still awake a good hour and a half earlier than usual. He supposed it was due to the extra sleep he'd gotten last night. He approached his slightly open door and realized he could hear Meredith speaking presumably to John. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, but when he heard his name curiosity got the best of him.

"Richard's made a lot of progress with his arms and shoulders. I've seen him doing transfers as if they were a simple matter."

A grunt was the only response.

"Has he made any comments about moving his legs?"

"No." Definitely John. Really, no one else ever came to the house, so he wasn't surprised.

"Well, let me know if you notice anything. He's getting close to being due for another round of shots. I don't want him to start noticing he can move his legs before we have time to do the injections."

Richard's head was spinning. What was she talking about? Injections? Suddenly he knew he couldn't mention anything about his legs to either of them. Fear raced through his veins. What were these people up to?

"I'm going to have to go to town tomorrow, beat the snow for supplies. I know you're off, but I thought I'd ask if you could stay with him?"

"You know I can't. It's not like I'm sitting around doing nothing. He has me off checking other things out. Things you're not allowed to know. He'll be fine alone. He's strong. You're smothering him too much."

"I don't see what he's worried about. I check the internet every day and there's nothing. His biggest fear about _her_ was a complete bust. She's imploded, barely alive from what I've read. It's been two months and no one is looking. I'd say we're in the clear."

"Well you don't pay me, so I'll continue to do what he tells me to. I suggest you do the same."

He heard John walking through the kitchen; the sound of the back door opening and closing and then there was silence. Richard felt a cold dread creep over him. There was something going on, something that he couldn't quite fathom. All he knew was he could no longer trust the only two people present in his life. He was going to have to figure this all out on his own.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Happy Holidays everyone. After I'm done with work on the 23****rd****, I'm headed to the parents abode. Which is located about 2 hours past the middle of nowhere. They have no internet. No cell signal penetrates their region. They get one TV channel. It's like a bygone era. Anyway, I'm taking my laptop so I'm sure I'll be writing. There is little else to do. Hope everyone has a great holiday. I'm back to work before the end of the week, so look for an update soon after this one.**

* * *

Kate was started on a high calorie diet that night, under the supervision of Sharon. Lanie was given a recommendation for an obstetrician as well. Sharon thought it imperative that Kate be seen sooner than later.

Kate slept very soundly that night. For the first time since losing him she fell into a true restorative sleep and the nightmares of how she imagined his death occurred were held at bay.

The next morning she actually felt less nauseous than the previous days. Perhaps because she was eating again; perhaps because some of her grief was tempered now with the knowledge she was carrying their baby.

Lanie had spent the night in the guest room; she'd wanted to watch Kate closely and make sure she wasn't going to slip away again. She got up early to make a healthy and high calorie breakfast for her friend. She heard Kate open the door to come out to the main living area and couldn't repress a smile; her friend was truly fighting her way back to them.

"Morning sweetie."

"Morning Lanie."

"Why don't you sit down on the couch and I'll bring you some breakfast in a minute."

Kate silently acceded. Ten minutes later, Lanie presented her with a plate; not a ton of food as they had to watch that they didn't feed her too fast, but all high calorie and nutritious. There was also a thick smoothie with calories added in with a packet that Sharon had given her.

"Sharon texted me that her friend, Dr. Caraway, will see you this morning."

"What time?"

"You have an hour. Alexis wants to come too." Lanie peered anxiously at Kate, hoping this wouldn't be an issue. Alexis was desperate to reconnect with Kate and with this last vestige of her father.

Kate nodded slowly. She wanted Alexis there too. This concerned all of them, and she wanted the help and support they would give her. She was done hiding.

Half an hour later she was showered and dressed; her own initiative this time for longer than she could remember. A lifetime ago. Lanie and Alexis were waiting in the living room when she came out of the office. Alexis jumped up and gave her a big hug.

"Thanks for letting me come Kate."

"Alexis, you're part of all this too. You shouldn't have to thank me. I'm the one who should thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you so much."

"I love you like a mother Kate. You're more a mother to me than Meredith ever has been. I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come back."

Kate was struck for the first time how selfish she'd been by withdrawing from her family. Alexis was about the same age she'd been when Johanna had been murdered. She knew what it was like to lose a parent. Yet she hadn't stood as a pillar for Alexis, knowing what it was like. She was no better than her father had been all those years ago. He'd disappeared into a bottomless pit of alcohol; she'd disappeared into a bottomless morass of despair.

She pulled Alexis in tighter.

"I'm so sorry. I wasn't sure I could live without him. I didn't mean to leave you alone. I just miss him so much."

"I miss him too." Alexis pulled back slightly and looked her in the eyes. "Just remember you have all of us with you. Even if he's not here," the teenager's eyes flicked down, a strange expression in them. "Even though he's not with us he'll always be a part of this."

Kate squeezed her, acknowledging her words. Something was off with Alexis, but before she could probe Lanie was clapping her hands and moving to the door.

"Ladies, we're going to be late. Let's go."

Smiling at her best friend's mothering, Kate retrieved her coat and stepped outside the loft for the first time since his funeral, weeks ago.

* * *

Dr. Caraway's waiting room was a nightmare for Kate. Full of women in various stages of pregnancy, all of them seemed to have a supportive husband or boyfriend next to them. It magnified his loss once again in her mind. She started to hyperventilate a bit and felt herself slipping away. Alexis grabbed her hand and pulled her to a chair while Lanie went to the secretary to see if they could be moved to a room as soon as possible.

"Good morning. I'm here with Kate Beckett for Dr. Caraway."

Checking the schedule, the secretary nodded.

"Her first time here?" Seeing Lanie's nod, she handed her a clipboard with several intake forms on it. "Have her complete the forms and then bring them back please."

"No problem, but is there any way she could be put in a room or moved somewhere else?"

The secretary looked up, puzzled.

"Her appointment isn't until 10. I can't put her in a room ahead of all the other women who have appointments before her."

Lanie grimaced. She'd hoped that this would be easier but it was clearly going to take more information than she wanted to disclose. Speaking softly, so she wouldn't be overheard in the waiting room, she continued.

"I appreciate that, but my friend Kate is very uncomfortable in the waiting room."

"Why?"

"Well, it's hard for her to see all the happy couples, all the men sitting out here with their wives."

Suddenly, the secretary's face cleared.

"Oh, sweetie, it's no problem. We take care of many gay women as well as straight. There's no reason to be embarrassed."

Lanie was silent for a minute, not sure how the conversation had veered so rapidly down the wrong path. Of course Kate had been accompanied by two women, so she supposed the assumption wasn't entirely out of the blue.

"No, no I'm sorry. I haven't explained myself well. We're just friends of Kate. Well, I'm her friend. Alexis is…never mind that's not important. No, you see her fiancé, the father of the baby, was killed two months ago. She didn't even know she was pregnant. It's been very, very tough on her. You can understand why she would have trouble sitting out here."

The secretary's eyes filled with tears as she heard the explanation.

"Oh, of course! Let me grab one of the nurses and we'll get her back right away."

No more than a few minutes after Lanie had rejoined Kate and Alexis passed before they were being escorted by a kind looking nurse into an empty room. Kate was still silent, withdrawn. Worried looks passed between Alexis and Lanie.

The nurse reentered and handed Lanie a gown for Kate to change into. She had them help her get Kate on the scale. Lanie knew the numbers were way too low for someone of Kate's height.

"If you could help her fill out the forms, I'll get the doctor in here as soon as possible. We should be able to do an ultrasound; that should help her feel more connected to her baby."

Lanie nodded gratefully. It seemed as though Dr. Caraway's staff wanted to make things as easy as possible in this terrible situation that Kate was in.

Between Alexis and Lanie most of the information was filled in on the forms. Kate remained quiet, staring at the floor. Addressing her directly with a yes or no question did elicit a nod or shake of the head, so she hadn't completely disappeared. After the forms were finished, they helped her undress and put the gown on. Lanie was shocked again at how much weight her friend had lost. She was skeletal.

A knock echoed through the room a short time later and Dr. Caraway entered with the same nurse.

"Hi, I'm Monica Caraway. You must be Kate." Sitting on a rolling stool, the obstetrician reached down and grabbed one of Kate's hands, firmly squeezing it in a supportive gesture. Kate's eyes remained downcast, body unmoving. Alexis was sitting next to her, trying to lend her some strength.

"I am so sorry about the loss of your fiancé. I've already spoken to Dr. Ingrams; Sharon. She's told me about the nutritional plan she started. I'm going to add a few things here and there. It's vital to your baby that we rebuild your health as quickly as possible." Kate nodded slowly, still not meeting the doctor's eyes.

Dr. Caraway glanced over at Lanie.

"You're Sharon's friend Lanie?" Lanie nodded.

"Yes, and this is Alexis, the daughter of her fiancé."

"I take it you two ladies are going to be helping Kate through this pregnancy?"

Alexis spoke up. "Yes, and my grandmother as well. Kate lives with us. Her father, Jim, is very involved too. One or more of us will be bringing her to appointments."

"That's terrific. I'll need to see her very frequently initially. We are going to have to work hard to get her weight up, which is essential for a healthy pregnancy. I'll have Susan here," indicating the nurse "show you the staff entrance in the back. Just call the front desk when you've arrived to the building and they'll tell you what room to go into. That way we can avoid the waiting room altogether."

Lanie was overwhelmed by the thoughtfulness and kindness being shown them. She knew Kate wasn't aware enough at the moment to appreciate it, but it really was an incredibly empathetic gesture.

"Ok, shall we see how we're doing? Let's have her get up on the table."

Lanie and Alexis helped maneuver Kate up on the exam table. Alexis than moved a chair over to her side and grabbed her hand.

"Kate, I'm going to do a quick exam then we'll do an ultrasound. You're far enough along we should be able to see the baby and hear the heartbeat."

Dr. Caraway quickly and efficiently performed the exam. Lanie wasn't sure if Kate would have wanted them to stay for the internal exam, but since she was so withdrawn right now she decided that it was better for Alexis and her to offer their support rather than leaving Kate alone with the physician and nurse.

"Ok, I want you to stay lying there Kate and now I'm going to put some cold jelly on your lower abdomen."

Kate continued to lie passively on the table. Her eyes were on the ceiling but she wasn't really paying attention to anything.

Dr. Caraway grabbed the ultrasound wand from Susan, who had already input all the necessary information into the machine.

"Let's see here, what have we got."

The familiar black and white patterns of a sonogram filled the screen. Lanie didn't use them in her field, but she was used to the imaging from medical school. It always looked like a bunch of static like on a TV screen to her.

Dr. Caraway's sure movements with the wand soon slowed.

"Here we are. Kate, here is your baby. Nice and healthy looking."

Kate's eyes were suddenly glued to the screen and she began squeezing Alexis' hand back. Dr. Caraway made some measurements.

"Yes, it all looks fine. One healthy looking fetus." She flipped a switch for the Doppler portion of the machine and a steady thumping sound filled the room. "This is the heartbeat. Nice and strong."

A muffled noise drew Lanie's attention from the fascinating image on the screen. Kate was crying. Relief filled the medical examiners heart. Her friend was responding as she'd expected to the presence of the precious life she carried.

Dr. Caraway printed a few of the screenshots for them to take home and share with the rest of the family.

"It's still too early to determine the sex, but everything is progressing as it should. I'd like to see you again at the end of the week. Mostly we'll be doing weight checks. And here are prescriptions for the vitamins and supplements I'm recommending you start today. Any questions?"

Kate shook her head, still overwhelmed from the sight of her baby on the screen and in the picture she held. Suddenly she was being hugged by Dr. Caraway.

"We'll get you a happy, healthy baby then at the end of this journey. I'll see you in a few days."

Kate nodded and the doctor and nurse left.

"Thank you both so much. I'm sorry I withdrew again." Her voice was little more than a whisper.

"Sweetie, no need to apologize. This is going to be hard, and I know that and Alexis knows that. As long as you come back to us, we'll be here for you. Just remember though, it's not just you that you have to think about. That baby needs you and we're all here to help you with this."

Kate nodded numbly. She was a very lucky person to have friends and family like this.

* * *

Later that evening found Kate sitting on the couch in the living room, Alexis leaning against her for comfort and reassurance. It had been a fairly successful day for Kate, despite the initial problem with the emotional tumult the waiting room had induced.

Seeing and hearing her baby had pulled her even further from the black hole that threatened to envelope her whenever she thought of Rick. Once she'd discovered she was pregnant, a small piece of her had been terrified that the baby would be compromised since she'd basically stopped eating after learning of his death. Knowing that everything looked fine so far was a huge relief and she was able to really get excited about her child; their child.

She didn't care if it was a boy or a girl. She just wanted a healthy baby. One with blue eyes and the mischievous smile that she had seen so often in his eyes. She hoped their baby had his sense of humor and the incredible love of life that had he had exuded. The thought of chasing around a mini-Castle was simultaneously exhilarating and excruciating. He wouldn't be there to see all the milestones of their baby's life, wouldn't be there to help her navigate the perils of parenthood. However, she knew she could count on the help of their family. A part of him would live on through his children and forever in her heart.

They'd returned to the loft and shared the pictures from the ultrasound with Martha and Jim, who had rushed over when he heard they had pictures of his grandchild. Kate had stayed with them the whole time and had eaten the high calorie meals placed in front of her through the day. Lanie and Alexis did most of the preparations.

She'd not experienced any nausea until she'd taken the prenatal vitamin prescribed by Dr. Caraway. However, she was able to keep it down when Lanie handed her a smoothie to go with it. Now it was just her and Alexis in the living room. Martha had left for a dinner party with some theater friends. Jim had returned home, promising to come back in the morning and spend the day with her and Lanie was upstairs in the guest room already sleeping. She'd had a long few days and was exhausted.

"Kate?" Alexis' voice was hesitant, insecure. Kate's thoughts drifted back to Alexis' appearance this morning before they'd left for the appointment. She remembered thinking something was off about the girl; perhaps Alexis was ready to tell her.

"Yes?" Kate reached over the younger girl's shoulder and patted her reassuringly on the leg. Alexis was lying curled on her side, head resting on Kate's shoulder heavily.

"Today when Lanie started to introduce me she wasn't sure what to say. It's all a bit awkward. I was wondering if you'd mind if I just called you mom?"

Kate was left speechless. She had never actually considered this issue and the problems it might cause for Alexis.

"Are you sure? You have a mother after all."

"Like I told you this morning, you've been more of a mother to me than Meredith ever has been. She's more like the eccentric aunt that no one ever wants to visit. She didn't even stay to take care of me after dad died. She flew in for the funeral and took off right after."

Kate hadn't even known Meredith had come. She'd been too lost in her own misery and certainly couldn't claim to have been any help for Alexis either.

"I'll still call her mother. But you're my mom. More than she's ever been. And I want to call you the same thing that my baby brother or sister gets to call you."

Kate was flooded with love for this girl. This girl who'd fought for her. She'd lost her father, watched as Kate fell into a hole so deep she'd nearly been lost as well. Yet she still had helped bring her back, given her a reason to fight and live even without him by her side.

Tears rolling down her cheeks, Kate nodded. "I'd be honored if you'd like to call me mom. As long as it's ok if I call you my daughter."

Alexis reached up and hugged he tightly, a bit awkwardly from her position but still possible. They sat quietly for about ten minutes when Kate felt Alexis start to tense up again.

"Mom, can I tell you something? I've been wanting to talk about this to someone but it's too private to share with anyone but you."

"Of course Alexis, what is it?"

"Promise me first that you'll not go all silent on me. It's about dad."

Kate wasn't sure how to respond. She wanted to reassure Alexis, but at the same time she wasn't sure if she could honestly make that kind of promise. After all, she'd withdrawn part way just this morning.

"Alexis, all I can do is promise to try my best. I'm still trying to adjust to all of this. I know with you and Lanie and my dad and Martha helping I'm better. And obviously the baby has forced me to be better. But this is the hardest thing I've ever done. I'm still not sure I'm going to make it, but I'm going to fight with everything I have to be the kind of mother I want to be for you and for this baby."

Alexis was quiet for a few minutes, her hand absently drawing comforting patterns on Kate's lower thigh. That was the only indication that Kate had that the girl hadn't fallen asleep in her arms. Slowly Alexis' hand stopped, then she whispered "I dream about him."

Kate was silent. She hadn't dreamt of him. Nightmares, sure. Of his death. Then she'd stopped having those as well. Hadn't really done any dreaming of anything besides being locked safely in a box away from everything and anything.

"I dream that we're talking, but it's very confusing. He keeps asking me to come back to him, but he's the one who left us. I try to tell him that _you_ need him and _I_ need him, but he doesn't understand."

Kate tightened her grip on Alexis. Hearing about the dreams was hard. Knowing she hadn't dreamt of him like this was harder. She'd locked him out of her dreams afraid she'd be continually devastated by his loss when she awakened and he wasn't there.

"Sometimes the dreams are really weird; he keeps asking me about Africa. I have no idea why. I've never been to Africa."

Suddenly Alexis turned, moved so she could look into Kate's eyes.

"But the hardest thing, the worst part is that I feel like he's there, in the dreams. Even though they make no sense; maybe because of it. Then I wake up, and I can feel him Kate. It doesn't feel like he's gone. It's like I can almost reach out and touch him. I think I'm going crazy." She was crying, tears running down her face in sheets.

Kate leaned forward and wrapped herself around the teen.

"Shh, shh. It's ok. It's ok Alexis. You just miss him, that's all."

"C-can you feel him at all? He seems so real. Maybe I need to talk to someone, a professional."

Kate rocked the girl in her arms for a few minutes before answering her.

"Honestly, no. But I haven't even tried. I haven't dreamed of him because I won't let myself. It hurts too much. But I don't think you're crazy. I believe you. We'll figure this out, don't worry. And if it helps to talk to a professional, then that's what we'll do. After all I'm the poster child for needing help."

Alexis chuckled amidst her choking sobs. Kate kept her wrapped in her arms until she felt the girl stop crying many minutes later. She wasn't sure if she could open her mind to allow dreams of him slip in. She was afraid of what that would do to her newly won return to life. Yet at some point she had to do it in order to move on. She wanted to be a whole person for their baby, for his daughter she clung so tightly to. And to do that meant she had to somehow learn to live with the pain of his death. Perhaps it was time to start trying to deal with it all. It was time to live.

* * *

He hummed to himself, happiness spilling out of him audibly. Everything was going according to plan. Of course sometimes that meant that the big anvil from the sky was about to fall, squashing him like Wile. E. in his elusive pursuit of the Roadrunner. But his personal Roadrunner was hobbled permanently. Driven over the edge by the loss of her lover, who was literally hobbled. Oh, it was all so exquisite. Such an intricate plan, pulled off without any problems. He almost wished he could share it with the world, show off his genius. But of course that wasn't possible.

He re-read the latest from his agents in Wyoming. Everything was progressing nicely. The only blip on the radar was an actual blip; there was a large snow storm moving in. The forecast looked bleak for travel once the snow arrived and right now he had two people tied up with this whole sham. Which was a waste of talent when John would likely not even be able to get out to the ranch for days after the storm. John was a talent he should not be wasting. Mind made up, he fired off some emails directing the man to report back to DC immediately, along with some ideas as to how they could utilize his particular talents during his sabbatical from Wyoming.

He emailed the woman playing Meredith as well. She'd been a very valuable find and once he'd discovered she'd like to be Castle's wife in more than just name it had been even easier to get her to do his bidding. He was paying her well after all. He knew she might have difficulty with communication during the storm; they were reliant on satellites and that equipment was at the mercy of nature at times. He let her know to keep him updated if she could, but he understood if she couldn't. It was a good time to remove John from the picture anyway; it was past due for her to show him what she could do without any help from anyone. He hoped she'd impress him. Chuckling again, he leaned back in his chair and enjoyed the moment for a brief time, amazed at just how perfectly things had worked out in his favor. He really did lead a charmed life.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: The promised update. Getting closer to the end, for those who are despairing. Should be able to post next chapter quickly. Hope everyone had a great holiday season, safe and sound. I was without internet for 4 days and while it was nice I'm glad to be back to the land of information at the ready. :)**

* * *

He rolled his way into the kitchen. She was still standing there, staring at nothing as she contemplated John's words to her. When she finally noticed him, she gave him a big smile.

"Up from your nap? How was the workout?"

"Fine. Great. I'm really getting strong in my upper body."

"That's terrific honey. Listen, did John say anything about coming tomorrow?"

"No. In fact he said there's a big snow storm heading this way."

"Yeah, he told me the same thing. Sounds like I need to head to town early tomorrow. Get all the supplies that we need."

"Can I come?" He actually wanted to stay at the house, alone for the first time. But he didn't want her to know that. He'd decided some reverse psychology was in order.

"No, sorry. I think you'd better stay here. What if it gets bad and the car gets stuck? At least here you're safe and warm. I'll go early in the morning. Let you sleep in for a change since John won't be here."

He tried to look disappointed; must have succeeded as she gave a bit of a chuckle and bent down to kiss his cheek.

"You're going to miss me that much Richard Rodgers? I'll hurry back, I swear. Then it will just be us, all alone in this big house."

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

They spent the rest of the late afternoon and evening watching a comedy that he found revolting, but he forced himself to laugh at it with her. She made him dinner then told him she wanted to go to bed early. He didn't argue; he was eager to see if he could make anything more out about the dreams. It was only 9 pm; he hoped having a whole night would lead to some discoveries.

Bidding her goodnight with a chaste kiss on the cheek he retreated to his room. He'd already decided to try testing his legs before bed; all afternoon he'd had a feeling nearly like an itch that he could move them but he'd not dared to try anything with her in close proximity.

Ensuring the door was closed, he moved a chair underneath the knob to make certain she wouldn't see him. It was an awkward maneuver to do from a wheelchair, but since overhearing the conversation earlier in the day between Meredith and John he'd become paranoid. Something was going on and he had no idea what he was involved in. He only knew he couldn't trust anyone. Especially the woman who called herself his wife.

Once the door was secured, he moved the chair so he was positioned in front of the bed. Normally to transfer, he would sit perpendicular, lean onto the bed and lift himself up and over using his newly honed upper body strength. Tonight, he was going to try to stand.

Knowing this could be fraught with danger, he made sure there was nothing around to fall on if disaster and gravity bested him. Using his hands he placed his feet on the ground between the bed and the wheelchair. Since he still had proprioception and sensation intact he moved them slightly until they felt just right. Then, grasping the arms of the chair he slowly pushed off, rising onto his legs as far as his arms could take him.

It was an incredible sensation. He could feel his muscles tensing, moving slightly. Encouraged, he let go with his right hand and tried to stand the rest of the way. Trembling so hard he almost fell he rose, releasing his left hand as well. He felt like a phoenix reborn when he reached the apex. He was standing. Weak, certainly. But his legs worked. It had all been a lie, for some reason. Why, he had no idea. But it was time to start finding out what the hell was going on.

He shuffled forward. His legs obeyed, but he was like a spindly colt standing for the first time. Luckily the bed was right there and he fell with a muffled thud onto it. Grinning from ear to ear, he was elated. He was whole again.

After a few minutes of reveling in the fact that he soon would be out of the chair, he made his way back to it. This time standing from the bed was easier as he just leaned forward to use the arms of the wheelchair; the angle was much better. It felt easier and he walked a total of two steps.

He sat in the chair gratefully; walking was a lot of effort. He rolled into the bathroom and prepared for bed. He removed the chair from the door before retiring; Meredith had a habit of checking in on him and he didn't want her to become suspicious if she suddenly discovered he was actively trying to keep her out.

Excited by the progress with his legs, he hoped he'd have similar success with the dreams tonight. He was relaxed and eager. He felt like nothing could stop him at this point.

Retrieving the pen and paper from their hiding place under the mattress, he placed them carefully under the pillow next to the one he used. He then positioned the wheelchair in the way it would normally be for a transfer. If she checked on him he wanted nothing out of the ordinary to raise a specter of suspicion.

He stood for the third time. Hardest to do yet, the muscles unused for so long, protesting. He knows this feeling though. Has spent the last few months learning this pain, becoming friends with the agony of physical exertion pushed past what he would have thought was his breaking point. He's learned a new definition of can't: quit. And he is not a quitter.

Shuffling to the bed, he collapses gratefully. Has to use his arms to move his legs where he wants them after scooting up to the pillow. Still, all in all a triumphant day. He'd had a feeling and he'd been right. It was exhilarating.

He settled back on the pillow. Keyed up, not ready for sleep but wanting to sleep so badly. He forced himself to relax, closing his eyes and doing some relaxation techniques John had taught him in the early stages of their relationship, back when he'd get tensed up and frustrated over his inability to do nearly anything.

Soon he was falling into the welcome arms of the Sandman. Initially his dreams were just random nonsense. Nothing he wanted or needed to remember. Then Alexis appeared.

She was sitting on a bench in a park. Once again it felt like they were in a large city; he could hear the cacophony of traffic nearby, but a copse of trees blocked everything out. The grass seemed impossibly green, sun beating down and washing out all the other colors. His daughter was alone, head down like she was reading a book.

He approached slowly; she made no sign that she knew he was there, but as he neared he saw she was not reading a book, but was holding a photo. It was a picture of him.

He reached out to touch her but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't quite get to her. Every time he thought he was near enough the ground would shift and he'd just be out of reach.

He shouted her name. She didn't move. Then he saw her mouth open and close; she was talking. He ceased struggling and suddenly found himself next to her. He remained motionless, afraid to move lest he be distanced from her again.

"Dad, if you're out there you have to listen to me. She's better; she's trying, but we need you. Her especially. Dad, she's pregnant. You're going to be a father again. Anything is possible if you're here with us Dad. But please, you have to help Kate. Promise me you'll help her."

He gasped awake. Nearly cried out; would have been a disaster as he'd stopped having nightmares weeks ago. She would have come running if she'd heard him, certain something was wrong. Grabbing the pen and paper he wrote furiously, trying to capture his daughter's words verbatim. He had no idea what they meant. He didn't know anyone who was pregnant. Unless Alexis was trying to tell him she was? And who was Kate? The name seemed familiar, the owner a silhouette at the far reaches of his mind.

He lay back again. The dream with Alexis was similar to many others he'd had with her. She seemed to want him to do something, go somewhere. Perhaps the city that he so often dreamed of being in?

He wasn't sure what city it was exactly. It was obviously large. Probably Chicago or New York. With the park from today, if that was a feature that could be trusted and not simply a construct of his mind, it would fit best with New York. Which as far as he knew he'd not been to recently and certainly hadn't lived there as an adult according to Meredith's recount of his life.

Yet the niggling of doubt introduced when he'd overheard Meredith's conversation earlier suddenly made him doubt everything she'd been telling him. This was going to be a difficult situation unless he could get his memory back. He didn't know what to trust and what to suspect; trying to build any sort of relationship on a foundation of mistrust was like building on quicksand. He wanted to believe her, but there were enough odd things and stories that just didn't feel right…if he could remember, it would solve a lot of his current issues.

He slowly drifted off again, still thinking about Alexis and what she was trying to tell him. He found himself dreaming of her as a child. They were on a beach, playing in sand then in a park playing on a swing. Scene shifted to scene like they were brief glimpses into his memory. Once again no person resembling his current wife appeared.

Just as suddenly, he was moved. He found himself in a large, empty room again. This time it wasn't as dark as it had been previously. It seemed warmer, less oppressive than the times he'd been here before. Once more there didn't seem to be any furniture when he first looked around, but he knew what he'd find when he turned one hundred eighty degrees.

It was there, as he'd expected. Sitting alone, though now with some candles surrounding it on three sides. He approached the box, hoping it would be translucent and was rewarded with the sight of her. Reposed again supine with her beautiful hair cascading around her. She appeared to be asleep.

He reached out, touched the box. Last time he'd awakened at this point, unable to see if he could touch her. The box was surprisingly warm to his touch. It appeared to be seamless, but when he tried to lift up on the top of it the whole of it simply disappeared and she was left in front of him, lying on a table of some sort. Undisturbed by the removal of the box that had been between them.

He marveled again at her luminous beauty. She looked like Princess Aurora from the fairy tale, sleeping under a curse. Waiting for him. He touched her gently, reverently, on the arm. Nothing happened. Mentally shrugging his shoulders, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to hers. They were unexpectedly warm and very soft. He rose up again and was disappointed to see she remained unchanged. At a loss as what to do next, he just stood and admired her. She seemed familiar, but he had no idea what her name was or what she meant to him.

Unwilling to move from her side, he was about to lean down and kiss her again when her eyes flew open and he was staring into two stunning hazel orbs. She stared at him, her expression full of love and longing and grief. He reached for her hand, clasping it to him. They just stared at each other for a few moments then she suddenly whispered "Castle."

A huge roaring sound filled his ears and then he was spinning, spinning out of control. He was falling, buffeted by the noise and by the sensation of his body plunging through space. Just as he was certain he was about to hit the bottom, he jerked awake.

He remembered. Everything.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Wow guys, thanks for the response on that last chapter. I'm so glad you're all enjoying it. I know it was intensely sad in the initial chapters, so for everyone who has stuck through it, I truly appreciate you! Anyway, I promised an update, and so here it is. As always, I love reviews/favs and follows.**

* * *

Kate had not fallen asleep very quickly. After Alexis' confession, she had let her cry it all out. It had taken another hour before the teen was done crying and ready to leave her side to go to bed. Kate had then found herself alone and not liking the direction of her thoughts, wondering how she was going to react when she did dream of him. Would it break her down again? What if, like Alexis, she couldn't bring herself to feel he was gone? What would that mean for her, for their baby? Maybe she'd feel better, knowing she could see him while sleeping. Perhaps that connection would buoy her for the agony of reality?

She missed him so much. She wished for the two millionth time that she hadn't been so closed off to him during the years before they'd become a couple. She'd known she was interested in him, probably in love with him and he'd certainly made his feelings known as well. She'd been so afraid to be in love, afraid she was too broken a person after her mother's death to be loved. He had stayed with her, never letting her completely escape and she'd finally given in. She had never imagined happiness like that he brought to her could exist in life. And now he was gone and she knew she'd wasted at least two years together because she had been too afraid to reach for that golden ring on the carousel of life.

She lay in bed, feeling alone and insecure about all the choices she'd made. The best thing she'd ever done was to let him in. Why was she keeping him out now? It hurt; it was agony, him being gone. But if she simply let herself remember him, the good times they'd had together and how much he had loved her, it would probably ease the burden a degree. Yes, it hurt to have him absent physically from her life; unbearably at times. But that didn't mean he wouldn't still be there for her. The depths of her heart where he now resided; her memories, imaginary discussions with him. He could still be part of her life. He would never truly be gone unless she banished him like she had for the last 2 months.

Eventually she drifted off to sleep. She found herself dreaming of him, of course. Memories replayed from their time together. Mostly sweet imagery, but some of their rougher times too. She welcomed all of it, happy to dream of him in whatever capacity she could.

It all changed as the night pressed on. She found herself back in the box she had created to protect herself after his death. It had always seemed safe to her previously; it's where she hid herself from the world. It was a seamless box that let nothing in. Nothing could harm her in it. Now though she finally recognized that while she was protected from anything getting to her she was also imprisoned within the box. Tonight it suddenly seemed malevolent, not comforting. She wanted to escape it but felt like she would be trapped. Forever. And it was her own doing.

It was inky black inside, but she knew it was her box by the feel and sense of the place. She started to panic a little, feeling claustrophobic for the first time since she had created it. Then a new, separate presence drew near. It was outside the box, but she could sense that it was safe; a warm feeling enveloped her and she stopped fighting; relieved.

She relaxed, closed her eyes and just lay there, bathed in the warm feelings the presence evoked in her. She felt the box melting away and then moments later someone was kissing her on the lips. It tasted like Rick; she opened her eyes and he was in front of her, staring as though he had no idea who she was. It felt so real to her; she didn't want to break the moment between them, but she felt compelled to say something to him. After drinking him in for a time she finally whispered his name.

He twitched violently in response to her whisper. A flash of recognition was in his eyes, and then she was waking up. She knew in the recent past this type of dream would have derailed her completely. It had been so real. She stumbled out of bed, running for the door. She had to talk to Alexis.

* * *

"Alexis!" She shook the girl. Nothing. The redhead was slumbering heavily. Kate shook her harder. "Alexis." The dim light of the room threw shadows over everything. Alexis' face was all sharp angles and crags. She didn't appear to be sleeping peacefully. Kate hated waking her but she had to talk to her. Now.

"Alexis, wake up." She had grabbed both of the girl's shoulders and gave her a sharp shake. Finally seeing her eyes fluttering and hearing a muttered reply.

"Please, I need to talk to you."

"What time is it?"

"I don't know." It was the honest truth. "Late. Or early morning."

Alexis opened her eyes the rest of the way, finding Kate's anxious eyes peering at her intently.

"What's the matter? Did you have a nightmare? Is everything ok? The baby?"

"The baby is fine. I'm fine. I think." Kate moved to sit down on the girl's bed. She leaned against the headboard, sighed. She had been so anxious to talk to Alexis and now that she was here she found she was suddenly tongue tied. where to start?

"I dreamt about him. Really for the first time."

"I dreamt about him too. Again."

"Tell me. Please."

Alexis could see Kate was quite upset about whatever it was that she had dreamed about. She could also see the older woman wanted to talk but was having difficulty finding the words.

Alexis sat up and leaned on the headboard next to Kate. Somehow remaining in the dark room made this easier; the intimacy of the bedroom, her bed, invited confessions that might not have come in another setting. She could feel Kate's reactions to their conversation, but the dark made her facial expressions hard to read. This gave her the courage to say more than she might have had they been in the living room with the lights burning on them.

"I was in a park. Sitting on a bench. I could hear others around me but I couldn't see anyone. I was feeling very sad, missing my dad and feeling some of the grief of his death. I looked down and suddenly I was holding a picture of him. It made me sadder, but then it felt like he was standing next to me. I couldn't see him, but I could tell he was there. At times it seemed if I just listened hard enough or concentrated as intently as I could I would be able to hear him; see him. But I never did. So, I started talking to him like he was there."

She pauses. Kate hasn't moved; still as the night surrounding them. Yet it is not an oppressive feeling. Alexis feels encouraged to continue. She doesn't want Kate to shut down and the past few months this type of conversation would have led directly to that very scenario. Yet tonight something is different. They've already discussed some difficult issues about her father's death and she thinks Kate can finally handle more.

"I told him that I missed him. That you missed him. I told him you were pregnant." She turns into Kate, then lays her head on the other woman's shoulder.

"I told him I needed him back. And that you did too. Especially you Kate."

Kate remains silent for a time. She's still not sure she wants to share everything with Alexis. It seems like too much; spoken out loud once she will never be able to take it back. Yet it is too much for her to carry alone. She needs support; the last few months have proven that beyond a shadow of a doubt. She cannot go on alone. Burdening Alexis with her craziness seems unfair; the girl is so young. But she is the only one who Kate knows will listen to her without any reservation, any skepticism. There is no one else.

"I dreamt of him, of our life. Before. We were so happy." Her voice sounds hoarse, alien in the dark. "It was nice. Then it changed. The last few months I've not let myself dream of him for fear of knowing what I was missing would destroy me. I was afraid to let him in my dreams because I was certain it would shatter my heart, or what was left of it."

Alexis reached out and took her hand, squeezing it silently to let her know she was there to support her. Kate appreciated the gesture; it gave her the courage to finish. Taking a deep breath, she continued.

"Much of the time I spent in some sort of haze, neither really awake nor asleep. But when I was asleep I locked myself in a box so nothing and no one could get to me. It felt safe. Last night I found myself in that box again. This time I knew I shouldn't be there. I felt trapped and claustrophobic. I was struggling, trying to get out but couldn't when I felt or sensed someone come close to the box. I immediately relaxed, soothed by their very presence. Then I was out of the box and I felt your dad's lips on mine. When I opened my eyes and saw him there it seemed like he didn't know me; it was kind of like what you've described to me from your dreams. He was so real, yet he didn't know me. Then I said his name and it looked like he had this moment of clarity, like he finally recognized me, but then I woke up."

Alexis lifted her head, looked directly at Kate.

"What are you saying?"

Kate shuddered. She was afraid to speak it out loud, but the hope had already pierced her heart and she suspected that Alexis had carried it for a while now. They were the only two. Anyone else would think them crazy. Not that Kate could blame them; the evidence was damning. Yet she could not suppress the feeling.

"I think there is a chance he's still alive," she whispered slowly, watching Alexis closely. Alexis stared at her and after a few seconds Kate had the sinking feeling that this had been a mistake; she had misread what Alexis had told her of her dreams.

Kate started to get up, run from the room. She had allowed hope in and now she was going to have to find a way to deal with the burden of hoping that something impossible was real. Alone.

Alexis grabbed her wrist before she could stand.

"No, don't go Kate. You really think there is a chance….?"

Kate nodded. "He's so real, it feels like he's right there. It doesn't seem like something my brain is making up. I..I thought you were feeling the same way, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make you saddle you with my crazy thoughts."

"Kate, I have believed he is still alive for weeks now. I have to believe we are communicating somehow in my dreams. Why else would he keep asking me about Africa? It makes no sense, and I know no one else will believe me. But we are the two people closest to him and so to me it makes some sense. I wasn't sure you would ever get to this point though."

"Well, based on how I retreated into a shell of myself, I can understand why you would think that."

"What do we do now?"

"We do what I do best. We investigate. But we'll have to keep it very quiet. If people know what we're doing they'll put up roadblocks. They'll think we are both delusional and will not understand."

"If he is alive, why do you think he hasn't contacted us or been found somewhere?"

"Well, if I had to guess it would be that he is being held somewhere against his will. Or he has amnesia or something. But I think he had to have been taken by someone or else they would have found him at the accident site."

Alexis leaped up, running to her desk and grabbing a pad of paper and a pen.

"Ok, how should we go from here? We could fly to Washington State and interview the people involved in the investigation."

"I think we need to keep it a little less obvious at first. Besides, I doubt I would be given permission by the doctor to go flying off over 3,000 miles away. Do you have any copies of the investigation into the crash or the death certificate?"

"No, and I don't think Grams does either. Well, maybe she has the death certificate. But I could probably get the report easily from Lanie. I'll just tell her I need it for the life insurance policy or something."

"Ok, let's start there. I don't remember much about any of it. I was in too much shock to take any of it in."

"I'll call her this morning. We'll figure it out Kate. I'm so glad you believe me, believe in him." Alexis reached over and wrapped Kate in a big hug. Kate closed her eyes and reveled in the feeling of being loved by a piece of him. They would find the truth, no matter where that led them.

* * *

Kate was sitting in the living room, wrapped in a blanket and lost in her thoughts a few hours later. She still didn't have a lot of energy, thanks in part to her poor nutritional status. She was gaining weight though and felt stronger for it.

"Kate! I've got the papers!" Alexis came running from the office, clutching a thick packet of papers that had been faxed over from the medical examiner's office. Lanie had faxed over the report and everything else her office had on Rick's death without hesitation.

It was just the two of them in the loft this mid-morning. Martha had an obligatory meeting at her school and Jim was working, finally satisfied his daughter was improving enough that he could leave her in Alexis' capable hands.

Alexis handed her the stack and they sat together, reading. It was hard; much harder than Kate had thought it would be, and she'd thought it would be horrible. Every time she saw his name in the black type, listed as dead, it was like she was learning about the accident all over again. She could tell that Alexis was having difficulty as well; could hear her breathing harder at times, feel her tense up during certain passages.

By the time they got through the whole thing, Kate was a mess emotionally. However, nothing had changed that sliver of hope she'd let pierce her heart. The accident scene sounded horrific, with body parts and burned wreckage scattered over a site of about a mile. It was treacherous terrain, complicating the recovery of everything. However, while Rick's DNA was found, not a single piece of his body, tissue or otherwise, was recovered.

The bodies of Gina and Paula, mostly intact, were easily identified. She'd remembered that much from when she'd first heard the news. She also remembered that the bodies of the pilot and copilot were not, along with Rick. What she didn't know was that body parts of both the pilot and co-pilot were found. It was assumed the majority were burned in the crash or vaporized by the explosion. But not all; they had found some. And if they could find some of the two men that were nearest the site of the explosion, why could none from Rick be recovered? He'd presumably been sitting with the two women in the back of the plane. Why were they easily found yet he was not?

Kate became angry with herself. Why hadn't she read this carefully when it was first completed? She would have noticed the inconsistencies, maybe found him much sooner. Because after having finally, truly read it there was only one conclusion to draw; only one thing made any sense. He was alive, and she was going to find him. And whoever had done this to them.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: Feeling inspired by all of your love! See, reviews make a huge difference. I went back to work today, am on call tonight and will be on call every other night but what do I do? Write for you guys! You want more? Keep me fed with lots of reviews. MmmmMmmm. Nom Nom.**

* * *

Sweat clung frozen to him. He was breathing so fast, panting from the exertion. He was sure he wasn't going to make it, but he absolutely had to do it. He forced himself onward. He'd crawl if he had to.

Step by tortured step he kept going. One foot shuffled in front of the other. He was headed to the barn. He'd embarked on this journey as soon as she'd left that morning. He'd managed a mostly friendly breakfast with her, remained calm and tried to act as normal as possible even though inwardly he recoiled whenever she came near and nearly struck her when she approached to give him a kiss goodbye.

He had no idea who she was, but now that he had his memory he knew he'd never been married to her. He vaguely recalled his kidnapping and had some disjointed memories of the times after that; there was a doctor and he had been injected with drugs. He guessed they'd tried to brainwash him and had used Meredith's name as he really had been married to her in the past and she really was Alexis' mother. He supposed they'd wanted to use elements of his true life as much as possible so that he'd accept it all more readily. It had nearly worked in some ways, yet he'd kept dreaming of Kate and ultimately that vision had preserved him.

He knew that the answers he needed were likely to be found in the barn. She always disappeared out there when he had therapy; today was his opportunity as she'd likely be gone for many hours and John wasn't coming. The fly in the ointment was that the chair wasn't going to be of much help. The ground was too rocky and uneven. He had to walk most of it. Which was a problem, for obvious reasons.

He'd found a plastic chair from the porch to use as a walker. It was lightweight, and allowed him to lean on it and shuffle forward. His greatly improved upper body strength was essential for this attempt. Without it he would have never made it half way. It was a struggle, and if it weren't for the mortal danger he felt pressing down on him he might have given up, looked for another way. He had to find a way to reach Kate, reach his daughter. Reach the authorities. It would have been nice if there was a phone in the house. None of this would have been necessary. Guess she was not that trusting.

The better part of an hour had passed before he finally reached the doors to the barn. They weren't locked; sliding them open was surprisingly easy. The light filtering into the barn was quite dim, but he could tell immediately that there were in fact no animals present. No smell of them, nothing rustling in straw. Another lie. Yet, what had she been doing out here for the hours he spent in therapy?

A faint path moved straight from the doors to the middle of the barn; he followed with his agonizingly slow shuffle. There was a door set into a room; it would have likely been a tack room or an office when the ranch had been used for its original purpose. The door was shut tightly, a padlock protecting the interior from prying eyes. Luckily for him he had learned to pick a padlock. Settling in the chair in front of the door, he started spinning the dial with confident twists. There was no doubt in his mind that if he could manage the walk to this barn then he could open this lock.

* * *

It took forty two minutes. Forty two agonizingly slow minutes. The air of the barn was cold and after his exertion he had stiffened up quickly. He had needed to get up periodically to keep everything circulating. He was really grateful he had thought to use the chair as a walker; he was not sure he could have opened the padlock if he had needed to sit on the freezing floor of the barn.

When it finally clicked open he nearly wept with joy. Moving the chair back, he quickly checked his watch. She'd been gone about two hours. He would need at least an hour to get back to the house; he would give himself up to forty five minutes in here to be on the safe side. He knew the drive to town was long, but he sure didn't want to be caught in the open hobbling back from the barn. He didn't think his life expectancy would be measured in days or even hours if that happened.

Opening the door carefully, looking for any hairs taped to it or other alarms that would let her know someone had been in here, he finally saw what she had been doing these months while he did therapy.

The room was not large, but seemed even smaller as it was filled with electronic equipment. There were several desktop computers; the main one in the middle had two widescreen monitors commanding his first glance. The other two were to one side, each with just one monitor. There was a large laser printer to the right of the desktops, a network attached storage device to the left of the central computer and several other devices he couldn't begin to identify. Everything was contained on a long counter with some shelves built into the sides. He could see multiple files and folders stacked neatly into the shelves.

He sat down heavily in the chair in front of the counter. It was quite comfortable; the room was much warmer due to the contained space with multiple electronic equipment running in it. He moved the mouse that belonged to the main computer. The screens lit up and asked for his password. Shit. Without any hope, he tried his name, her name. Nothing.

Giving up, he tried the other two computers. They also needed a password. His spirits plummeted. How the hell could he get a message to someone if he couldn't get in the computer? He tried some of the other equipment, but without knowing what they were used for he did not have any real hope of help from that quarter.

He went back to the main computer, tried a few more passwords. He was paranoid that it would keep track of how many times password entry had failed and give him away. Utterly giving up, he carefully observed the files and picked them up gingerly; he had to make sure he put them back exactly as he had found them.

Opening the first, he struck gold. It was full of stories she'd printed off the internet about his death. Richard Castle's death that is. It was a thick file, which was somewhat gratifying. People had cared he had died. Luckily, he was a speed reader, plus he didn't have to see every story. They were remarkably similar.

He was horrified to learn that Gina and Paula were both dead. There had been a plane crash and the headlines screamed about all the people aboard being killed. The date made no sense; it was two months ago yet he had been told his 'accident' had happened three months ago. Yet another example of how they had been messing with his mind.

They had not recovered his body, nor that of the pilot or co-pilot. She had printed out stories dealing with the crash from papers all over the world, but most had no new information after he'd read the first few.

There was a funeral for him; he read about an empty coffin. His obituary mentioned his mother and Alexis. Meredith was listed as an ex-wife. Gina of course was mentioned as she'd died in the plane with him. And one sentence mentioned Kate, listed as his fiancé and partner.

Closing the file, he opened the next. This one was much thinner and had some stories that had focused more on Kate and his family. There wasn't much; it was clear that Kate had refused to talk to anyone and a lot of it was speculation. One thing that did catch his eye was a gossip rag that had somehow placed a guest at his funeral, or paid off one of the people invited. It discussed how Kate refused to speak about him and in fact refused to speak to anyone. Then, at the graveside service she had suddenly tried to jump into the grave as the empty coffin was lowered into the ground. There was even a very unflattering picture of her being drug away by Espo and Ryan. The author seemed somewhat sympathetic to her at first glance, but by the end of the piece it was made crystal clear everyone thought Kate had completely lost it and was barely, if at all, functional.

Rick closed his eyes, tears welling up. He couldn't imagine what she had gone through. He was not sure he would be functional either if he had been told she had died in a plane crash, if he had had to try and endure her funeral.

Not able to handle any more information about her, he moved to the next folder. This was an interesting one. It contained dossiers about Rick's life in the past and notes on what he would likely remember (his daughter) and how to deal with it. It was clear now that she was acting as an agent of a much bigger enterprise. Nothing was spelled out, but Rick could see there was a lot of money funding everything.

When he thought about who could be behind the whole plot, he came up with two names. One would be Jerry Tyson. There was no doubt in Rick's mind that Tyson was still alive out there and likely wanted his shot at destroying Rick's life. This elaborate ruse had certainly done that. Yet this was not Tyson's style. At all. Rick did not think he had sufficient funds to pull it off, but even if he did he would want to be the one pulling all the strings, not some remote investor. He would want Rick to know what he had done, how he had done it and to torture him with the thought that Rick would never get his life back. Forced brainwashing to turn him into a new, different person was not in the equation of the Triple Killer.

The only other person Rick could think of who had the means to do this was none other than Senator William Bracken. It made sense; Kate was the real target, so sparing Rick (to some degree) was not out of the realm of possibility. And it appeared (if the newspaper were to be believed) that by faking Rick's death they had essentially removed Kate from becoming any threat due to her breakdown after the loss of her fiancé.

This scenario was confirmed, at least in his mind, by the next folder. It did not have a smoking gun equivalent in it, but was instead full of stories about the likelihood of Bracken running for President (highly likely) in the next election cycle (coming up). Bracken and Kate had existed in an uneasy truce for months. Rick had always suspected that it was a truce that Bracken would not hesitate to break if he thought he needed to. Becoming President, or at least being considered by his party, was definitely a reason, in Bracken's mind.

With Bracken the mastermind Rick knew he was in trouble. Bracken didn't hire incompetent boobies. The near success they had had in rewiring his brain was proof they were playing for keeps. If he even hinted at the fact that he now knew what was going on he was certain he would be eliminated immediately. There was no room for loose ends in Bracken's orbit, even if you were a world famous mystery writer.

The last folder in the stack is about using botulinum toxin to render someone paralyzed. Now he understood 'Meredith's' comments about injections. He read that botulinum toxin only affected the musculature, which is why his sensation was intact. Spinal injuries were apparently different, with loss of sensation as well. He resolved that he would never let them inject him again; there seemed to be some concern over permanent damage with repetitious use.

He quickly but carefully replaces the stack exactly as he had found it. A glance at the time shows he has but five more minutes left in his self-imposed deadline. The other papers are in much smaller folders and nothing jumps out until he sees one with a schedule drawn up. For John. No surprise that he is involved in the conspiracy as well.

* * *

By now all the computer screens have returned to their previous state; back to power save mode once the correct password failed to be entered. Rick stands cautiously; his muscles are in better shape now compared to the time spent outside picking the lock due to the warmth of the room. He positions the chair exactly as he had found it and closes the door. He then turns the padlock dial to the precise number it had been at prior to his attempts to open it. He feels satisfied that he has done everything he can to minimize any evidence of his visit to the barn and grabs the chair. He is not looking forward to the long shuffle back to the house.

Fortune smiles on him for a change; the snow has not yet begun, so the path to the house will not reveal his footsteps. The ground is frozen solid, so no telltale prints will give the game away.

Halfway back, he is sweating profusely again, cursing his weak legs. He drives himself on, knowing he must get in the house before her return. He cannot afford any rest.

The snow begins about three quarters of the way back. It is initially a flake or two wandering down from the sky but soon evolves into a thick, heavy snowfall. It muffles any sound from his immediate location and he begins to worry that she might drive up without him hearing her until she was on top of him.

The snow piles up rapidly and the work of shuffling the chair to swing his uncooperative legs behind becomes nearly impossible. He feels tears welling up from the physical exertion and the yawning fear this will be all for naught; he will be caught and killed, Kate never knowing he had survived for a time, albeit brief.

The comforting thing about the snow is that it will completely obscure any trail to the barn. If he can make it. The snow is now so thick he worries he'll miss the house altogether, wander off and freeze to death in a pasture.

Slogging through the snow ten minutes later he suddenly catches sight of the house. Approximately an hour and a half from the time he left the barn he is back on the porch, replacing the plastic chair from its position then sinking gratefully into the wheelchair; a feeling he never expected to have towards the damned thing.

He rolls into his room and removes the coat that is soaked through with now melting snow. He hangs it in the bathroom; she never goes in there. His hands are a mess; bleeding from cuts inflicted by pressing his body weight onto the back of the chair. It wasn't meant to be a walker after all. He knows he can explain them as blisters from doing extra strength training. He's sure she knows that John has set him exercises to do while the man is gone.

He washes them, then carefully wraps gauze around them. They will soon heal; he is not worried. Nor is he concerned she will suspect anything from his physical appearance. Training is hard work and he often looks wiped out and exhausted as he does now. His shoulders are killing him, having taken much of his weight as he shuffled along on the chair.

* * *

The clock on the side table in his room shows it is now early afternoon. He rolls into the kitchen and makes a quick but nutritious lunch. He knows now just how much is at stake and is determined to keep his strength up.

As he eats, he reflects with some disappointment on the day's events. He had counted on being able to reach out to someone, to be rescued. Yet, that is no nearer than before she left. He has not found any way to communicate with others. However, he now does know much more information about what is going on and who he is dealing with.

Perhaps, on further reflection, it is fortunate he was not able to send for the cavalry. After all, doing anything so dramatic as rescuing the thought to be dead Richard Castle would make a huge splash. Big enough to drown Beckett in a tsunami of angry Bracken, more than likely. No, he has to do this the right way. She needs to be warned before he can just reappear to the public.

As he contemplates his next steps, a plan slowly coalesces in his mind. Finishing his meal, he washes up as best he can (the kitchen was not remodeled to accommodate his lower height in a wheelchair and he dare not stand) then starts seeking all that he'll need to bring his plan to fruition.

Once he has found the resources he will need and placed them where he wants them, he realizes he is exhausted. He ususally naps after a session, so it would be normal for him to sleep.

He rolls into his room and gets in bed by standing, preserving his hands as much as possible. He eschews the paper and pen beneath the mattress; he now remembers who he is so he doesn't feel the need to retrieve them. His last thoughts as he drifts into slumber are of a red headed girl and of the woman he loves more than anything in the world.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N: Here's a New Year's update for you. Thanks for reading and please review. I'm excited about this chapter and I hope everyone enjoys it. We're nearing the end now.**

* * *

They poured over the crash investigation, the death reports for hours. Every little detail checked, discussed. Yet, in the end, they were nowhere. Kate was exhausted, frustrated and beginning to feel nauseous.

She and Alexis had created a timeline of sorts for the crash. It was a narrow window of time from when the plane had taken off in Spokane and then crashed just to the north and east of the Tri-Cities.

However, no matter how fine a sieve you used on the details of the crash and subsequent investigation, nothing about where Rick was now or who took him was going to be discovered. If she had to guess, she would bet he was never even on that doomed plane and the DNA that was found was placed there later.

So the crash was literally a dead end. Which left her with nothing to pursue. She could not fly to Spokane on her own; she was not physically up to a flight and the nausea bespoke of morning sickness (though it was now early evening).

Alexis could fly, but she was not an investigator. While she had good instincts, there was no way Kate could allow her to go off on her own. Especially since they had no idea who was behind this. The ability to arrange a crash, kill four people all to cover up the kidnapping of one was not something average people possessed. The facts implied money and power. As well as a ruthlessness that was frightening to consider. No, Alexis would not go alone.

Kate needed help, that was obvious. She sat at the table, Alexis still busy making notes about things from the reports, and considered her options.

It had to be someone she trusted. Which narrowed the number considerably.

It had to be someone capable of performing an investigation; one without many leads to consider at all.

It had to be someone with authority or power to resist the influence of the mastermind behind the whole thing; as they got closer and inevitably discovered who was controlling this farce she had to know her own adjutants would be able to bring the person or persons responsible to justice.

It had to be someone who wouldn't reject out of hand the reason why Kate and Alexis both thought that Rick was still alive. Would not just laugh at her when they learned she had dreamt about him and that she could still feel him in her soul. He was not a cold shadow, but a warm presence in her heart. He could not be dead.

She mulled over the requirements, thinking of each person who might possibly fit her needs. Rejecting nearly all of them. Then suddenly one person popped into her mind. And she knew she had found just whom she needed.

Excusing herself from the table, she found her phone and made the necessary calls. She needed to speak with them privately. Urgently. And they had to come to her; Kate was not able to travel.

Once the details were taken care of, Kate insisted that Alexis stop for now. There was nothing more to be gleaned from the reports that they hadn't already found. She told Alexis about her plan so far and the younger girl expressed enthusiastic support. They made dinner, with Alexis ensuring that Kate ate a nutritious meal. The nausea had by now disappeared and by the time dinner was completed Kate was reeling with exhaustion.

Alexis sent her to bed immediately after she had finished eating. She promised Kate she would wake her up the minute their guest arrived, but in the meantime Kate needed to sleep. She would feel better for it and be able to think more clearly. They had several hours yet until their guest could possibly make an appearance, so Kate readily agreed. She was tired. And she hoped she would dream of Rick again.

* * *

She sank into a deep sleep almost immediately. She found herself walking on a beach, the ocean to her left as she strolled. The sand surrounding her was absent of people for as far as she could see. The land that she was able to see on the right jutting up past the dunes was unfamiliar.

Drawn further up the beach without any true destination in sight, she walked along in peace, enjoying the sound of the waves as they worked on the shore and the cry of the birds wheeling overhead.

She walked for an unknown time just enjoying the tranquility when a shadow crossed in front of the sun that had been beating down on her. Looking up in confusion, she saw it was a large object. It's position in the sky, between her and the sun, prevented her from identifying it. However, when she put one hand over her eyes to shade them, the sight of the object, whatever it was, frightened her. She felt like a rabbit caught out of the burrow as a hawk circled overhead. Instinctively, she squatted down on the sand, trying to make herself as small as possible.

The giant bird (or whatever it was) made some passes in the distance, but did not seem to find what it was looking for. Eventually its path drew it away from her and she slowly relaxed. Once it was out of sight, she stood shakily and started walking again, still drawn by an unknown force to move up the beach.

She was no longer alone. Walking toward her, still too far to identify, was a person. She considered stopping or turning around, the fear from the encounter with the predator in the sky still whizzing through her vasculature. However, the attraction that was pulling her toward it proved stronger and in the end her steps barely faltered as she continued walking, drawing nearer her goal and the person walking to her with every step. She hoped she reached her destination before reaching the stranger; barring that she hoped they were friendly.

Keeping her eyes down on the sand meant she could pretend she was in no danger, but it also kept her from figuring out who on Earth would be walking towards her. It wasn't until she was around fifty yards from him that she noticed that it was indeed a him (he was tall and broad), that he was walking right towards her and that he was calling her name. Instantly realizing it was Rick walking toward her, she broke into a run, jumping into his arms when she reached him a few seconds later.

He is laughing softly and she leans back a bit so she can see his whole face then lowers her head onto his for a deep, passionate kiss. Even in a dream he makes her feel alive, arousal and love fizzing wildly through her body.

"Kate." He groans, reluctant to stop kissing.

"Rick. Rick, god I've missed you. I thought you were dead."

"I've missed you too, so much. But there's no time. I'm stuck Kate. You need to find me."

"Where are you? I've been trying to figure it out, but I need more."

"I don't know."

She had been staring intently at him, trying to memorize his face. He looked the same to her; there was nothing new or different from the last time she had seen him.

"Can you show me anything?"

Suddenly they are surrounded by snow. It's jarring, having come from a beach where there was sand and sun. Now they are suddenly outside of a farmhouse, a barn in the background. And they are surrounded by snow. Mountains surround the land in the distance. She does not recognize it.

As she's looking around, trying to see if there is anything familiar about the place, the shadow flies in front of the sun again. She presses into Rick's arms, scared of the unknown entity but feeling safe and secure when surrounded by him.

"What is it Kate? What's wrong?"

She silently points upward; the malevolence is behind him. He turns and follows its flight path. It is getting closer and closer to them, though Rick doesn't seem surprised.

"You have to be careful Kate. Very careful. They'll kill me in a heartbeat. Kill you for looking. Promise me you'll be careful."

She is still following the foulness in the sky when his hands cup her head and bring her eyes down to his face.

"Promise me." She has never seen him look more serious than this intense look; he is fire and steel and determination and love all wrapped into one.

She nods slowly and he is dissipating, opacity fading with every millisecond.

"No Rick, don't go! Rick."

Her arms are holding empty air. She feels tears rolling down her cheeks as she searches frantically around her for him, knowing in her heart he is gone.

A cry from above alerts her again to the hunter in the sky. She looks up and suddenly can see what it is that is searching for her. She has not been spotted, but there is nowhere to hide in the vast expanse of snow. Any movement will be seen immediately.

She shrinks down again, closing her eyes to keep herself from seeing the look of triumph in its eyes when it spots her.

Then suddenly she hears Alexis shouting at her from a distance and the ground is swallowing her up into it. She rises back to consciousness, slowly realizing she is safe in bed. Wiping her face, trying to shake off the fear from the dream, she notices she has tears tracking down her cheeks. It was so real.

Glancing up at the ceiling, she half expects to see it there, watching her and waiting to strike.

"Kate! It's time to get up." Alexis is calling from the living room. Remembering now that she is expecting someone important, Kate rises and walks to the bathroom to freshen up before the doorbell rings. The image of the dragon circling the sky searching for her fades, but the fear does not. They must be careful or all will be lost.

* * *

Ten minutes later Kate is seated, waiting anxiously for what she hopes will be their salvation. It's a tall order to fill, but she cannot think of anyone else that could possibly help as much, let alone perhaps pull it all off. Even her contacts in the Attorney General's office are not as good. The ones with the power she doesn't know well enough to trust. The ones she would trust, like Rachel, do not have enough power. It is a tricky balance.

The sound of someone at the door knocks her out of the reverie. Soon it will be knowledge shared between the three of them and there will be no going back.

Since Alexis has not met their guest before, it is Kate that goes to the door. She expects disbelief and needing to argue and cajole. She is not prepared, however, for anger.

"This better be good. I'm missing my daughter's recital to come up here and hear what you have to say." The door has barely opened and already Kate is on the defensive.

"Jordan. I'm sorry, I didn't know." She looks down, at a loss momentarily. So far from the badass detective she was just over two months ago. That person is gone, perhaps forever. But there is still enough for some of the spark to relight. "I didn't have anyone else I could trust. And it is important. Please, come in."

Agent Jordan Shaw nods curtly, still not sure why she had to come. In truth, she is a bit shocked at Kate's physical appearance. She knew that Kate had broken down after Rick Castle's death, but this is to a level she had never imagined. When she had gotten the urgent message stating that Kate needed her to come to New York and speak to her immediately she had been annoyed. She hated missing special events; lord knows her time with her daughter was precious enough. But Kate and Rick had saved her life once upon a time. She owed Kate, so here she was.

Kate took her coat, hanging it on the hook near the door with the family's outerwear. Distracted, she hadn't noticed until now that Rick's favorite dress coat was still hanging there. She reaches out to touch it and becomes lost in a moment, remembering him in it.

Jordan sees what she is doing and her angry stance relaxes immediately. No matter that she is missing her daughter play the piano; Kate is missing her fiancé in her life. If there is something she needs help with then Jordan will do all she can to assist.

Jordan reaches out, touches Kate on the arm.

"Shall we go sit down? You can tell me what was so urgent it could not wait another day."

Kate nods and leads her to the living room where Alexis is waiting, having silently witnessed all that had transpired.

"Jordan, this is Alexis, Rick's daughter. Alexis, this is Jordan Shaw. I've already told her a lot about you," she says turning to smile wanly at Jordan.

"Nice to meet you Alexis." Jordan sits down in an armchair while Kate joins Alexis on the couch. There are some papers strewn on the coffee table between them, papers that Alexis has started gathering in a particular order.

"Can I get you something before we start?" Kate asks.

"Some tea would be lovely. But I'd like to get to it. I booked the midnight shuttle, so we don't have a lot of time."

Kate's face falls in disappointment. She had hoped to have more time with the agent, but knows from Jordan's standpoint there was no reason to think she would be here for long. Well, once she heard their case Kate was certain Jordan would throw herself into it. They just had to convince her.

"I'm sure you know some of the circumstances of Rick's death?" Kate's face was pinched, narrowed with the pain of speaking about it, even now that she no longer believed in it.

"Yes. He was out west somewhere, on a book tour and the plane crashed. All passengers lost."

"That's right. They crashed in south central Washington. The pilot, co-pilot, Paula Haas, Rick's publicist, and Gina Cowell, his publisher and ex-wife were killed."

"And Rick." Jordan's eyes had narrowed. She suddenly had a sinking feeling about why she was there.

"Kate, there was an investigation. There is always an investigation when a plane crashes. This isn't why you asked me here, is it? It's been two months for God's sake."

Kate gestured to Alexis. "Jordan, please. Just humor me for a minute. This is the crash report." Alexis handed the papers she'd gathered to Jordan, who accepted them with reluctance.

"Please. Read it while I make us some tea. If you read it and have no further questions or concerns then we'll drink our tea and you can go on your way with my apologies for taking you from your family. But I don't think that's going to happen."

Something in Kate's eyes touched Jordan. She nodded and pulled on some reading glasses while Kate and Alexis went to the kitchen, giving her space and time.

As Jordan read through the report, she was impressed with its thorough investigation and careful details. Clearly the person in charge of the investigation had been professional. Her agents on her personal team might learn a thing or two from this.

Everything seemed clear cut. She couldn't imagine that this report had prompted Kate to request her presence emergently two months after it had been finalized. Just as she was getting to the final page she was suddenly struck by a thought. Riffling through the papers, back to the listing of evidence. Hmm. That was strange.

Kate had been watching Jordan carefully and was despairing as she neared the end without any visible change in her countenance. Just as she thought all hope was lost she saw her pause then go back through the papers to a particular one. Kate saw the light dawning in her eyes; she nodded silently to Alexis and they carried the tea into the living room together.

Jordan looked up, almost absently. Looked down again, read some more. Paged through the report again, and then straightened them out in her hands. She looked up and gave Kate a piercing look.

"I think I understand why you asked me here. But Kate, it's been two months. What else do you have?"

Kate didn't answer immediately. She wanted to be sure of her words; this was a critical juncture for them. Handing Jordan her tea, she then took a sip from hers, body warmed by the slide of the hot liquid down her esophagus.

"He was not on the plane. There is no other logical conclusion."

Jordan nodded at her. She agreed.

Heartened, Kate continued. "Someone wanted the world to think he was dead. Went to a lot of trouble to achieve this goal. Killed four people in cold blood and arranged to place his DNA there so that it would be assumed he was dead."

Jordan nodded again.

"He's alive Jordan. I know it and Alexis knows it."

Jordan peered at both of them critically. "Do you have hard evidence of that?"

"No. But we've both had dreams of him and he's told us things that wouldn't make sense unless he were alive."

Jordan was losing hope. This sounded more like the empty pleas of a desperate woman rather than the confident and capable cop she had known before.

"You've both dreamed about him." She was blunt and clearly not impressed by the statement.

"I know it sounds…well, it sounds like something Rick, like Castle, would say. But you have to listen Jordan. No matter how we know he's alive, you have to help. He's out there, alone, and I have no one else I can trust with this."

Jordan was trying to figure out how to get Kate to see reason and drop this before she truly drove herself insane.

"Why now Kate? This report has been available for two months. Why is it suddenly an urgent matter?"

Kate flushed, looked down. Alexis reached over and took her hand, squeezed reassuringly.

"After his death, or his purported death that is, I fell into a deep hole. I stopped talking, stopped eating and stopped interacting with anyone. Truthfully, I wanted to die. If he wasn't going to be here with me I had no reason that I could think of to live. I completely walled myself off to everything."

"So what changed?"

Kate looked up at her. "I'm pregnant."

Jordan stopped breathing. She could not imagine the loss of her husband; he was the love of her life as she imagined Castle was for Kate. Then to discover you're pregnant after his death…wow. That was an incredibly cruel twist. For him to not be there with her. Suddenly she resolved to do what she could for Kate. She deserved some help, even if the conclusion was to give her some closure over what had happened to her fiancé.

Jordan reached over and patted Kate on the knee, reassuring her.

"Ok. I'm in. What else do you have?"

Kate nodded gratefully.

"There are only two people that I can think of who would have the audacity to do something like this. One is Jerry Tyson."

"The 3XK killer? I've read some of the reports on him. He is very clever."

"And he swore he'd get Rick back. He thinks Rick interfered with his ability to disappear and declared he'd take Rick from his life. He almost succeeded once. I would not put anything past him."

"But you don't think it is him." Jordan could see that Kate did not believe Tyson was responsible.

"No, I don't. For one thing, this would take a lot of money to pull off and I am not sure how many funds he has access to. Maybe he is rich and could do it, but the other thing that bothers me about it is that the whole world thinks Rick is dead. Tyson wants revenge on Rick, wants to make him suffer. Instead, his death led to the world toasting his life, memorializing him for the great man he is. I cannot imagine that Tyson would want something like that."

"So, assuming you are correct, who else do you have in mind?"

Kate hesitates. This is the point of no return. She trusts Jordan. She knows Alexis would never betray her or her father. Yet it is such a burden, she hates to put Alexis in the crossfire.

She considered asking Alexis to leave so she would not be privy to the secrets and thus innocent of any knowledge. But she knows she cannot ask her to do that. Not after all Alexis had done to bring her back from the edge of death. She should know why this has all happened. Deserves to know.

"Alexis, this is information you've never been told. For your protection. But I think it's time you knew everything."

Alexis nods; she was aware there were aspects of Kate's life that Kate and her father had kept hidden. She also knew they were just trying to protect her. She wanted to know why he'd been taken and if this information was crucial to understanding it, then she would hear it.

Kate started at the beginning, with what they had learned about Johanna's death. She and Rick had been through the information so many times that she was able to discuss the whole case without the crippling grief welling up like it once had. She went through everything they had done, the key players they'd discovered. She even told them about Roy's role, though not without a qualm. She had once promised that no one would ever learn of his mistake. Yet now that Castle's life was in danger she knew she had to tell the entire sordid story.

She finished with her discovery that Senator Bracken was behind the entire plot. Unfortunately, the evidence that had once kept him in check was now in pieces. She explained the delicate detente that had risen between them and the grudging respect he had paid her when she saved his life.

When she finished there was silence in the room for a long time as the other two digested her information.

Kate had been through the reasons for and against Bracken being the person behind the crash. Her dream just that afternoon seemed to confirm her suspicions. She was the first to break the silence.

"What I don't understand is why he would break our agreement now. Why would he take Rick when I'm the one he really wants? Everything about this case screams his name but I don't understand his motive."

Jordan shifted. "I think I can explain that part."

The other two looked at her expectantly.

"William Bracken is on the short list of his party to be a candidate for president. His poll numbers are very positive across the country and across many lines. If I were to guess at this minute, he is the shoo in candidate."

Kate still looked blank. She wasn't sure why that mattered.

"He's trying to clean up, isn't he?" Alexis' voice was hoarse with emotion. She understood.

"That's what I would bet." Jordan turned to Kate. "He knows you two are engaged. He would assume Castle knows everything about you. If something happens to you, Castle has the resources and the determination to make the whole world aware of Bracken's sins. The presidential campaign would disappear in a poof of smoke. One thing that is certain: for any successful candidate, there has to be zero baggage. I mean zero. Once you're on the hot seat there are people who tear into your life with a vengeance, seeking any transgression no matter how minor to discredit you with the voters. Bracken has to have you out of the way; you represent a millstone around his neck. And if you're a millstone, then Castle is a concrete block tied to him. He had to get both of you."

"But he only took Castle. I'm still here."

"Yes, but Kate…look at what happened. Were you really a threat to him for the last few months?"

Chagrined, Kate looked down at her hands clasped in her lap and shook her head. She'd been a mess. No threat to anyone but herself.

"If you had managed to pull yourself together, I'm sure Bracken had a plan to quietly kill you in what appeared to be an accident. Without Castle hear to protest, would anyone have really looked hard at it?"

Kate shook her head. Probably not.

"And you're right, I believe he is alive." Both Alexis and Kate looked up sharply at the agent.

"Bracken wouldn't dare kill him right away. The ones who died had no fame, no celebrity. Their only purpose was to confirm to the world that the plane supposedly carrying Castle was a fatal crash. No, he would have kept Castle alive in case something went sideways. Then he could always produce him and the world would focus on the return of the famous writer from the dead and not what had happened to him. Now we just have to figure out where he's been stashed."

"I might have an idea." Kate isn't sure how Jordan will take more information that she'd gained in a dream, but they had no other clues.

"I dreamt of him tonight. I asked him where he was, but he told me he didn't know. Then, I asked him if he could show me. We were suddenly standing in a snowy yard. There was a house and a barn, and in the distance were some mountains. It looked like somewhere out west."

Jordan looked at her piercingly for a minute and then seemed to reach an internal accord.

"Well, we've got nothing else to go on. I have to bring my team in on this Kate. I trust them implicitly and I'm going to restrict it to just the people I have to have. We'll bring them up here; there are too many eyes in DC. And we're going to have to be quiet about all this. If he finds out we're investigating him, the consequences could be catastrophic."

Kate nodded. She agreed and she had trusted Jordan. It had worked so far; there was no room for doubt now.

"Let's do it. Let's find Rick." She hugged Alexis as Jordan flipped her phone on to start getting the team in place. They were finally moving forward.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I want to thank everyone still reading this fic. I really appreciate everyone's comments and words of support. We are very near the end, so hang in there with me. Thanks!**

* * *

She had been gone too long. The lines at the store had been ridiculous. Not to mention the shelves were much barer than she had expected.

Once she finally made it through the checkout line, she pushed the loaded cart to the doors and made the unwelcome discovery that it had begun to snow while she was shopping. The parking lot was difficult to traverse; the wheels kept getting stuck in ruts left in the old snow pack that the new snow was covering up.

Eventually she had reached the car and loaded the bags, ready to hit the road. It was a forty minute drive on a normal day. Today she knew it would take much, much longer.

Initially it wasn't bad; the roads had been plowed around town and the snow had just started. Halfway back to the ranch it started getting interesting. It was now snowing hard and the plows were fewer and farther between. Fortunately, she was an experienced driver in snow and had a four wheel drive. She just had to be careful and drive slowly.

Three hours after she had left the store, she finally made it to the driveway of the ranch. The snow was blowing and drifting on the open fields and had actually helped to uncover the driveway a bit. Pulling up to the house, she let out a sigh of relief. That had been tense; her shoulders and arms were sore from having been clamped so tightly to the wheel.

The ranch house was completely dark; she frowned. Rick should be up, waiting. Suddenly a frill of fear washed over her. What if he'd fallen, gotten hurt? Picturing him lying helpless on the floor, she jumped out of the SUV and bounded up the porch steps, grocery bags forgotten in her haste to make sure he was unharmed.

She opened the door; it was not locked. They rarely bothered. Who would be looking to break in to such a remote location anyway? He wasn't in the living room or kitchen. She trotted to the bedroom wing. His door was closed. She grabbed the handle, anticipating for some reason that it would be locked. When it turned easily and opened she almost fell into the room.

He was lying in the bed. Unmoving. A sense of dread settled over her. Certain he was dead, she approached slowly. Reaching out with one hand, she touched his shoulder. It was warm; she had expected it to be cold, stiff.

The touch of her hand at his shoulder made him fidget a bit then, moving his head deeper into the fluff of the pillow, he started snoring. Loudly.

Her hand dropped to her side, nerveless. He was just sleeping. Relieved, she crept back out of the room and went back to the car to unload it. She shook her head, amused at the completely paranoid thoughts she had assumed when the lights were off and the house dark as she had driven up. He normally took naps during the afternoon; the therapy wiped him out. She didn't know why she had jumped so easily to the wrong conclusions, but supposed it was just part of her nature. Paranoia bred suspicion, caution. Two characteristics that served well to keep her alive in her line of work.

* * *

He awakened with the taste of her still on his lips. She was lying next to him in the bed, the scent of their coupling still lingering in the air. She was beautiful, for certain, but he had no interest in anything she had to offer other than her body. She was a release, nothing more. He jostled her roughly awake.

"Get out." She took one look at his face and fled. He hated it when they wanted to stay and cuddle. He could not very well afford to have any of them around when he was conducting his business. It was sex then leave, thank you very much.

He checked his email; nothing unusual. Got up and showered, then called his top aide.

"Anything happening?"

"John arrived as expected. He's coming over for further instructions in an hour. You want to proceed as we have already discussed?"

Oh yes, he wanted to proceed. It was time to be rid of the albatross around his neck.

"Yes. As soon as possible. And remember, tell him it looks like natural causes or an accident. Otherwise I will not be happy. Nor will he be paid."

"Ok, consider her gone. What should he do after he finishes the job?"

"Tell him we'll contact him. He finishes this well, I'll have some work for him."

"You don't want him back in Wyoming?" His aide sounds surprised.

"No, I think he's done in Wyoming. I think our agent there can handle things on her own now. If not, we'll simply have a job for John sooner than we thought."

They speak of a few other issues, then disconnect. He is feeling especially excited, now that everything is coming together. He rings for another woman to be sent in. He can't very well celebrate alone now, can he?

* * *

The smell of something delicious wafting through the partially open bedroom door awakened him. He stretched, still lost in thoughts about his dream. He'd seen Kate, as he was hoping. Thought he had warned her as best he could that Bracken was orchestrating things. He wasn't sure these dreams of his represented true communication with Alexis and Kate or if it was all wishful thinking on his part. Still, they made him feel like he was doing something to get out of this situation. They gave him a purpose and most importantly, hope.

Rolling over, he could see a crack of light entering the room from the living space beyond. Obviously Meredith was home. He had been careful about his wheelchair once again and was glad as she had clearly at least opened the door. He knew he had closed it completely before he had gotten in bed.

Unwilling to risk getting caught doing something he was supposed to be incapable of, he transferred like normal to the chair; his hands hurt tremendously from the cuts he had earned on the trek to and from the barn, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

He rolled into the kitchen, knowing he would find her there given the smells pervading the house.

"You're back."

"And you're up." She turned and smiled at him. She looked a bit tired, like the day had been hard on her. It had been hard on him too.

"Worked out really hard this morning, just to make John proud when he gets back."

She nodded, crossed the few steps that separated them and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"I'm making dinner; shouldn't be more than ten minutes. Would you set the table?"

"Sure."

He rolled up to the cabinet with the plates; everything was kept low so he could reach them when needed. He took out two of everything and was about to move it all to the dining room when she exclaimed, "What happened to your hands?"

He had prepared for the question; known she would notice.

"I might have worked out a little too hard." He gave her a sheepish grin, trusting his rueful eyes and little pout would help convince her. It worked perfectly.

"Richard, why would you do that to yourself? John was not even here!"

"That is exactly why. I am close to not needing therapy anymore and I wanted to prove that I could be as rigorous alone in working out as when he is with me. I guess I was a little too eager though."

She shook her head.

"What am I going to do with you? Next time be more careful. You don't need to prove anything to me Richard. I know you are working hard."

He just grinned at her, more emotion in the smile than usual as he knows he has fooled her. It's a heady feeling, knowing that he can manipulate the situation to his advantage.

They eat dinner. One thing about her, whoever she really is: she can cook very well. She talks about the trip, how bad the roads were. He makes sounds of support as she decompresses from the long day.

"Did you do anything else while I was gone?" Her question catches him by surprise. Does she suspect something?

"You mean besides work out then nap? What am I supposed to do? There's nothing to _do_ around here." His answer is harsher than he had intended. He knows he is being too defensive but can't help himself.

She sits back, looks at him carefully. _Shit. _Him and his big mouth….

"Well, I thought maybe you'd watched a movie or something. I was gone a lot longer than I thought I would be." She looks thoughtful, not anxious. But now his heart is speeding up; he feels the twist of nerves in his stomach. He must be careful, so careful now.

He holds up his gauze wrapped palms, makes sure she acknowledges them again.

"I worked out far longer than I thought I would, remember. I didn't have anyone to tell me to stop and I lost track of time. Then, I was exhausted. I took a quick shower and decided to lie down. You found me there when you got home. That's all."

He is channeling all of his inner Martha into this performance. She still appears uncertain. He must up the ante.

"I missed you." Makes his voice husky, quiet.

She stares at him with a wondering look.

"We're going to be alone for the next few days you know." He's moved the chair away from the table so he can maneuver expertly nearer to her. "All alone in the house. I think it's time we got to know each other again."

Her eyes close, he sees her swallow thickly. He takes the chance to lift a finger to her cheek, caresses it softly. Her eyes open again and now all he sees is desire. Lust. No more doubt. Thank God.

She touches his face as well.

"You're right, it is time." She starts to say something else, but a huge yawn suddenly catches them both off guard.

He chuckles softly. "It has been a long day for both of us. But this is a conversation that we will continue in the morning. Now, go get some rest my love."

"What about the dishes, cleaning up?"

"It can wait until morning. I'll clean the table. Go lay down."

She stands, leans down and kisses him on the lips.

"I'll see you in the morning then."

As she disappears down the hall, his mind is churning. He has a plan, has what he needs. The question is timing.

* * *

The loft has become a hive of activity. Jordan wasn't kidding about bringing in her team. There are five of them here, the ones that Jordan thought she needed. They have all their equipment set up throughout the loft, working nearly the minute they arrived. It is an impressive sight, almost overwhelming by how fast things are moving now. If she weren't so worried about Rick, so certain of the danger they were in, she would probably disappear into the bathroom to remove herself from the mounting stress. But she can't leave. She wants to know what they know when they know it. Has to watch, help if she can.

She feels someone staring at her. She always knows when it is Rick staring; she can feel the love pouring from him. It's impossible to ignore, and for a long time she would chastise him, tell him it was creepy. Oh, what she would give for a stare from him now!

"Kate, you need to go lie down for a while." It's Jordan. She's seen how tired she is, how on edge.

"No, thank you. I'm fine. I want to help."

"I'm not asking. I'm telling you to go lie down." Jordan has now walked in front of her, reaches down to grab her hand and pulls her up.

"This initial part of the investigation is simply putting in data, seeing what pops. There is nothing you can help with. Believe me, if we get stuck or if we find something, I'll come get you." Kate is still resisting. Jordan's voice softens. "You need rest for you and for the baby Kate. Now go lie down." That's enough to break her. She knows she hasn't been taking care of her body like she should have up until now.

"You'll come get me?"

"I promise."

"Ok."

Kate was sure she wouldn't be able to sleep, but the minute she lies down she finds her eyes closing, sinking down into slumber.

When she opens her eyes again, she knows she is dreaming. She is on the beach again, though this time she can see Rick standing near her.

"You came back." He sounds delighted, surprised even.

"Of course I came back. I love you." He gives her that big smile meant only for her at her words.

"Is this real? Are you really here with me? Or is it all my mind making me think you're here?"

"I don't know Rick. All I know is that for two months I thought you were dead. I wanted to die myself. But now I know you're alive and we are looking for you. I've got Jordan Shaw working with us; we are going to find you."

He looks at her, amazed by the revelations. "Jordan? I wouldn't make that up, would I?" He is talking out loud, but to himself. "How did I die? You said I was dead, what happened?"

She shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about it. It was an awful time for me."

"Please Kate? I would not ask unless it was important."

She stares at him, unsure why he is so insistent.

"You were in a plane. You had just left Spokane, Washington after a book signing there and were going to Oregon. Your plane crashed and everyone on board was reported dead. _I_ believed you were dead."

"But now you don't. I know about the supposed plane crash. But what made you change your mind?"

"Alexis was sure you were still here. She told me she was dreaming of you. And I hadn't read the report. When I finally did, I knew you were still alive."

"Why? What makes you so sure?"

She starts to cry. This is so hard to talk about, especially with him standing next to her, watching her.

"They didn't find any pieces of your body. Only some DNA. They found parts of the other people. But not you."

Then he is taking her in his arms. They feel real enough to her. He smells the same, feels the same. He leans down, looking deeply into her eyes.

"Now I know it's you. This is real. Come find me Kate. Come find me." Then his mouth is on hers, their kiss as electric as if he were in their bedroom with her. They both put everything into the kiss. A love that transcends them both. A love they have had to fight for, battle through challenges that would have broken almost anyone else. The universe has tested them both individually and together, yet their love has remained. A connection unbroken despite the distance and the circumstances they now find themselves in. A love story for the ages.

* * *

He awakened with the taste of her still in his mouth, the feel of her in his arms. Can't hold back a groan when he realizes it was all a dream; she is not there with him. Once he resigns himself to the fact that she is not there, he takes the time to review the dream carefully.

Up until now he thought the dreams were simply products of his own mind trying to help him remember who he really was. Now, he thinks they are more. Much more. He had read the reports about the plane crash in the barn. Yet, none of the stories had had access to the actual crash investigation.

The things Kate had told him were elements that he had no way of knowing. He supposed it could all be information his mind was making up to fill in the gaps, but it felt like much, much more. No, he was going to base his actions on believing it was real. He had always believed in forces that couldn't be explained, and he definitely believed in his love for Kate and her love for him.

So, if Jordan Shaw were involved, he knew she would have her team searching for him. With the snow, it would take a Herculean effort to get to him. However, he had no doubt that it would and could be done once they knew where he was.

His actions would be predicated on the arrival of a rescue team. The most important thing to preserve, besides him of course, was the equipment in the barn. He had no idea exactly what was stored on the computers, but the FBI would have experts who would sort it all out.

He knew that whoever, whatever, Meredith really was she was likely to be dangerous. He hoped he was prepared to meet the challenge. He had a few advantages, though she was certain to be well trained and ruthless.

He was much larger than her, for one. That could be a disadvantage, for sure, but if they got into a battle of strength, he would win. Not that he was cocky. Kate was much smaller than him too, but he knew most of the time she could take him with an arm tied around her back.

His biggest advantage was his new mobility. She had no idea he could stand, let alone walk. He hoped to surprise her when the moment was right by being able to move places she wouldn't expect or do something she could not anticipate.

He also had taken advantage of her absence to prepare some things that might be useful to him. All in all, he liked his chances. He was under no illusion that it would be easy. He hoped that by utilizing everything he had he would be able to immobilize her. He could be ruthless too. Though it went against his nature to bring violence to a woman, he knew he would do anything to get back to Kate. Especially since this particular woman had been instrumental in tearing them apart and had actively been attempting to erase Kate from his mind. No, he would do whatever was needed to get out of this situation.

* * *

She awoke slowly, trying to preserve the taste of his mouth on hers, the feel of his body around her. Loathe to give in completely and realize she had been dreaming.

The sound of voices in the living room penetrated the room like a distant buzz and she was suddenly thrust back into reality. Her reality without him. However, she pushes away the disappointment of his absence. She has a job, a focus. She must find him; help Jordan's team find him.

She stands up, strides to the door with a purpose. Nothing looks much different at first glance. The team is working at the various stations they've set up. Jordan is on the phone near the kitchen. She sees Kate standing in the doorway of the office, gives her a small smile and continues her conversation.

Alexis is sitting in the living room, working on her laptop. Kate has no idea what task she has been given, but the young woman is concentrating on her work with a focus that is so Alexis that it makes Kate smile for a second. Alexis has been, as usual, the calm and steady force during the last few months. If not for her steadiness they would have gone nowhere. Kate knows that she had not pulled herself together on her own. Alexis had truly been the fulcrum on which everything had depended.

Glancing around the loft again, she notices that they have set up a smart board in the dining room. An agent is sitting at the table near it, putting in data that Kate knows nothing about. The image on the smart board currently is a large map of the United States. The states are all outlined, but no other information is present except for some colored dots that are placed in locations that would correspond to New York City and to Washington DC.

As soon as Kate's eyes focus on the smart board, she feels an inexorable pull to it. She starts to step forward, but is brought to a halt by Jordan stepping in front of her.

"Kate, I was just coming to wake you. We've had a break. We were able to tap a phone conversation the Senator had with his top aide. We know he is going to send an operative known as John after you and…" Jordan trails off, puzzled. Kate is staring past her, not paying any attention to anything she is telling her.

"Kate? Are you listening to me?" Jordan gets no response. "What's the matter? Are you ok? Is it the baby?" Kate continues staring past her. Jordan turns to look at what has captured Kate's interest so completely. She is staring into the dining room; there is just one agent there, a man she has had on her team for seven years. Utterly trustworthy. The only other object in the room is their smart board, which has a map on it at the moment. They had been using it to trace phone calls earlier, but are not using it currently.

Kate starts moving forward again; Jordan had inadvertently moved out of her pathway when she turned to see what it was that would lead Kate to ignore everything and everyone around her. Jordan follows a step behind.

"Kate, if you are worried about Eric there, don't be. He's been with me for years and I trust him implicitly."

Kate continues to walk slowly forward. The entire room has fallen silent, watching as Jordan tries unsuccessfully to get Kate's attention. Eric is now staring up at them from his seat, a look of anxiety and concern on his face. To everyone's surprise, she walks past him. Stops only when she's in front of the smart board.

Jordan gives Eric a slight nod and he quickly inputs some instructions to the board, relinquishing control to the touch screen. Jordan sees Kate raise her right hand, starts moving the map around, zooming in. Jordan looks closely at her, sees that her eyes are closed yet she is manipulating the map with confidence.

When Jordan sees that she is zooming in on the state of Wyoming, she is shocked, to put it mildly. She had not had the chance to tell Kate they had learned that the operative known as John had travelled to DC by way of Rapid City, South Dakota. Or that the conversation they had listened to between Bracken and his aide indicated John had been in Wyoming.

Kate had now zoomed in further; the boundaries of the state now invisible as she narrowed in on the northeast corner of the state. Suddenly she stopped and placed her finger on the map.

"There. He's right there."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: Thank you to all who have stayed with me. This is the penultimate chapter, and the last will be uploaded sometime this weekend. I really appreciate the reviews and comments I get.**

** One question or concern I've seen from a few people is that they don't really like the whole 'Kate knows exactly where Rick is from a dream' sequence. To be honest, I wasn't originally going to write it that way, but I decided to do so to pay an homage of sorts to another TV show that I loved back in the day, JAG. In several episodes Mac was able to find her missing 'sister' Chloe and then later found Harm in the middle of the ocean. Like Kate, Mac was a no-nonsense, rational woman. But there was a special connection between her and Harm and it led to incredible feats together. Unfortunately, the showrunner for JAG was not as kind to the audience as Marlowe and company; we had to watch for 10 seasons for Harm and Mac to finally get together in the very last freaking episode. Torture. Anyway, that is why I wrote it the way I did.**

* * *

To her credit, Jordan didn't blink when Kate specifically identified where Castle was located on the map. Kate had zoomed in far enough that they were able to identify approximate longitude and latitude coordinates. When these were input into a database, the piece of property represented by the coordinates was determined.

If Jordan was shocked when they discovered that the property was owned by a subsidiary company that was in turn owned by one Senator William Bracken, she hid it well. Instead, she excused herself from the immediate vicinity and made a brief phone call that was quiet enough no one could hear what she said.

Once she had finished, she walked back to where Kate and Alexis were standing. They were still in the dining room, staring at the map of Wyoming as if they could teleport there if they just stared hard enough.

"When do we leave?" Kate was done waiting. Now they knew where he was; she wanted to be on their way immediately.

"We don't." Jordan's response was firm. It didn't matter; Kate was having none of it.

"What does that mean? Of course we're going. And it you don't see fit to take us, then we'll just go ourselves."

"Absolutely not. We have no idea who is on that property, what kind of security measures they have in place. Not to mention they are expecting a freaking blizzard. You're not going Kate."

Kate's face flushed a dangerous red and she was about to let Agent Shaw exactly what she thought of her 'absolutes' when Jordan laid a hand softly on her shoulder, trying to defuse the situation.

"Kate, the call I just made? It was to one of the best covert teams I've ever known. They can operate under extreme conditions. They will get him out. I have no doubt of it. But you have to stay here. Putting you in danger serves no purpose. And you'd only be hindering them; they train together for this very purpose. You're weak, tired and pregnant. You're staying here, with me."

"You're not going either?"

"No. The agent in charge is much more experienced than I am. I'm staying here with you and Alexis. We'll be in the loop as much as we can be from this distance. As soon as they have him, they'll let me know."

"Do you trust this agent? What if he works for Bracken? How can you be sure he'll get him out safely?"

"Oh, I don't think you need to worry about that. He's one of the best there is, a legend really."

Kate was not particularly comforted by Jordan's words, but she didn't have a lot of choice in the matter either.

"Trust me Kate. I've trusted you so far and you have been instrumental in finding him. Now it is time for you to trust me."

Kate nodded, reluctantly accepting. She was thousands of miles from Rick, without the authority to order anything. She had done what she could; now she had to trust the people that she had brought in to do their jobs.

* * *

Rick decided to rest that night after his incredible dream about Kate. He had put his body through a tremendous effort that day and it needed the recovery time. He would dearly love to practice walking more, especially unaided, but he has to be smart about his limitations.

He is also certain that rescue will be imminent, and he may need to play an active role in achieving his recovery. Having thought about it in detail after awakening from his dream conversation with Kate, he worries that the snow storm may impact the arrival of an extraction team.

He stewed over that for a while until he had the uplifting thought that it might help their cover as well. Then he worried that the team would unwittingly destroy the barn. Finally he worried that the team they sent would underestimate Meredith. She was not large physically, but he was confident she was very capable; perhaps, with the right supplies, she might be very difficult to flush out. There was always the chance that, if surrounded, she would go out in a blaze of glory and take him with her.

Everything boils down to timing. If they have to wait until after the snow, wait until John comes back, then his odds of leaving alive are slim to none. He thinks about stealing the car now that his legs are working, more or less. Yet, he has no idea where they are really and if he gets stuck somewhere he is not yet capable of hiking out.

No, his best option is still the original plan. Take out Meredith, wait for a team and if nothing and no one appears for him, wait the snow out and then take the car. He decides to wait until a good moment presents itself. He is confidant she has interpreted his remarks during dinner as a sign he wants a physical relationship, something she has been hinting at for weeks. He will use it to his advantage.

One thing he had thought about earlier would be whether he would be able to get her to give him the password to the computers. It would guarantee his ability to communicate to the outside world. Perhaps she even had a cell phone stashed somewhere, or a satellite phone. He had never seen evidence of either, but he had not really looked previously.

However, he knows she is a professional hired to do a job. Given the scope of this farce, a very expensive job for which she is undoubtedly being paid handsomely. She is unlikely to yield any useful knowledge without serious torture. Not something he could every do; well, unless the life of his daughter or fiancée was threatened. If he is able to incapacitate her, she would no longer be a threat. He does not think he could then purposely harm her on the unlikely chance she would give him the password.

* * *

When he wakes in the morning, he feels rested; his sleep had strangely been dreamless. But he knows today is a momentous day. It might even be the day he gets back to Kate.

Meredith is clearly up; he smells the coffee. He transfers to his chair like normal, but his legs are feeling stronger and more capable than even yesterday, despite their abuse during the long walk to and from the barn.

He goes into the bathroom and locks the door. Turning on the shower as a cover, he stands carefully. Today he is not even that shaky. Takes a practice step. A grin erupts on his face. While not feeling normal, he is clearly much improved. Disregarding any handholds, he walks the four or five steps to the sink. No problem. He grins in the mirror again; elated he has made so much progress over the few days.

He strides to the shower, quickly washes and then dresses in the clothes he had grabbed before coming into the bathroom. He seats himself back into the chair, careful to position his legs as they have been positioned over the last few months. Nothing can look odd or out of place.

Entering the kitchen, he sees Meredith dressed casually but for warmth; sweats, sweat shirt. It is not cold in the house, so he decides she might be preparing to go to the barn. A slight flutter of panic wavers in his gut. What if she notices someone, namely him, has been inside the room?

"Morning sweetheart."

"Good morning Richard. I didn't hear you up last night. Did you sleep through the night?"

"Yes, I'm sleeping much better, for the most part." He twists the last few words, eyes down. She bites.

"For the most part? Are you having pain? Is there something I can do to help?"

He looks up at her, through his lashes. Hoping it looks seductive somehow, though what he is feeling is revulsion, not seduction. "The bed is soo big. And empty all alone."

Her eyes grow brighter, face suddenly lighting up.

"Well, we can't have that now, can we?"

He reaches for her hand, trapping it in his and bringing her fingers to his mouth. Kisses them carefully.

"Did it snow?"

She has to shake her head after a second of blank staring. He's getting to her.

"Yes, it snowed. Still snowing some. Not as bad as they thought, at least so far."

"Then perhaps we should heat things up a bit. Make some snow…melt."

She looks like she is going to jump him there and then, but he sees her fighting something internally. Responsibility wins out.

"I have to run to the barn for a bit this morning; I won't be long."

"Surely the animals could wait just a bit longer?"

"Now Richard, you know that's not fair to them. It won't take more than an hour."

He pouts a bit, but can't get her to change her mind. Perhaps if she is distracted enough by what she thinks will happen after the barn, she'll hurry. Rush through things. Not pay attention like usual. In the meantime he can decide the best room to incapacitate her in.

"Ok, go to the barn if you must. But I'll be watching the clock. You had better be here on your hour mark, or I will be sorely disappointed Mrs. Rodgers."

She shudders slightly; imperceptible unless you've been living with her for a few months, like he has.

"I'll be back. I promise."

"In that case, come here for a little preview of what to expect when you return."

She grins broadly at him, moves closer. He grabs her closest arm and pulls her closer to him, spinning her so she can sit in his lap. He is very careful to keep his leg muscles slack, relaxed.

Seated on him, she laughs softly. "So, you were saying?"

"I wasn't going to _say_ anything." Then he pulls her face to him and kisses her thoroughly. He pours his love for Kate into it, knowing he must derail her from her normal paranoid, confident soldier for hire mentality. He wants her thinking as a distracted lover, not an operative.

She moans a bit in the kiss and he hopes it is enough. The walk to the barn will be cold and difficult with the new snow on the ground. Hopefully the love bubble he has created in her mind won't pop in the freezing air.

She stands, trails her hand through his hair as she walks towards the mud room to get the rest of her winter gear.

"Be ready Mr. Rodgers. Your wife will be back soon."

* * *

She dressed for the cold in a haze. They were finally where she had wanted them to be, had been pressing for all these hard weeks. She had almost given in to his kisses, the invitation in his eyes. But duty came first, no matter what the temptation. And he was a temptation, that was certain.

That kiss! It had been unexpected. And so welcome. She let the memory of it warm her as she slogged through the snow and freezing air on her way to the barn. Her whole body was still tingling as she reached the barn door.

She almost carelessly reached out a hand to open the door without a thought before she caught herself. Shaking her head a minute, she realized she had to get her thoughts out of the clouds. The job was the priority and she had to be thinking rationally to do it properly. Taking a few deep breaths of the cold air, she reclaimed her work persona and shoved the woman part of herself deeply below so it would no longer interfere.

Having successfully controlled herself, she fell into her deeply ingrained habits. Peering at the door, she saw it was slightly ajar. This alone was not of concern; the wind often rattled the door out of its last position. However, it did make her a bit more vigilant. She slowly opened it, waited, listened. All was perfectly silent, as expected. She felt no eyes staring at her, no presence of someone else with her. Stepping in, she waited for her eyes to adjust to the dim light available in the barn before proceeding to the locked door of her com. room.

Here she saw nothing amiss and swiftly entered the correct combination to the padlock; then opened the door. The hairs on the back of her neck rose; there was a foreign sense, a smell, something. Perhaps she was imagining it; nothing looked out of place. It just seemed….off.

The monitors were as she'd left them, nothing appeared to be missing. The folders were exactly as she'd carefully ordered them, the colors of the different folders making up a visual code that she used in other jobs. Everything was as it should be. However, she had one last failsafe. The chair.

Every time she left, she would carefully position the casters under the rolling chair so they were in a particular pattern with the slats of the wooden floor. It was so subtle, she doubted even the most careful Goldilocks would miss it. And with a glance down at the angle they made currently, she knew. Someone had been sitting in her chair.

Bile rose in her throat; she had been so close to completing the mission successfully. First things first; she quickly logged in to the computers and verified that no websites had been accessed today. She had several built in safety nets; all were intact.

Next she checked the sat phone and other equipment; it was all untouched. She kept the pieces of the sat phone apart and carried the final piece on her body constantly; it was not possible to use without her knowledge. To an untrained eye, there was no way of even figuring out what _is_ in the first place.

Lastly, she checked the folders, but the contents all appeared to as she had left them. Of course there was no way of knowing if they had been read; she assumed they had. While somewhat damning, they were not a smoking gun.

Finally, she sat back and considered her options. The obvious culprit was Castle. How he had reached the barn was a curiosity; he obviously had. Perhaps he had been able to roll the chair to and fro prior to the start of the snow? That might explain the injuries to his hands.

How he had gotten past the padlock? Clearly he had some lock picking skills. Luckily his computer skills were not as impressive, as it didn't appear he had successfully gotten in to them.

Could it have been an as yet unknown party? She considered there were no tracks when she'd driven up; though they might have been covered with the snow. However, if it were someone else, where were they? She had been vulnerable to attack while walking to the barn…..of course. That would explain why he was suddenly so affectionate, telling her he was ready to "restart" their physical relationship, which of course had never happened.

No wonder he had been sleeping so soundly when she had arrived yesterday. He had exhausted himself in a vain attempt to contact the outside.

She considered carefully her next step. She would have to report to Bracken, but now or later? If she killed Castle first, took care of the problem, then reported it she hoped things would not look as bad for her. She had been forced to leave him alone; Bracken had been the one to recall John after all. However, she would stand accountable.

If she reported it now, she was certain to be ordered to kill him. The part of her that wanted to clean up her own mess rebelled at this option. It seemed the better choice was to clean it all up and then report, wait for further orders. Perhaps her initiative would be considered.

She stepped out of the comm room, went to the back of the barn and retrieved a pistol hidden in what appeared to be a random pile of junk. There was a door at the back of the barn, which she chose to use. The back of the barn was hidden from the house; she could circle around and approach from another angle, surprise him. She would have to interrogate him first, discover how he had known, how long he had played her. Perhaps if he cooperated she would be merciful, make it quick. If not, she _did_ like to play with her food.

* * *

Rick Castle was growing more concerned with every passing minute. She had been gone well over an hour. He had parked his chair at the window with the best view of the path to the barn. You couldn't quite see the door, but anyone walking back would be seen early enough that he would have time to move somewhere else, act nonchalant. He could not understand what was taking so long. What if he had missed a security measure? What if she knew?

He considered making a break for the car; his legs were so much better today. But. But what if she had disabled it somehow? No, he would wait for her. Incapacitate her and then decide on the next step. Where was she? He strained to look down the path to the barn once again.

The cold steel pressed into his neck gave him his answer.

"Looking for me?"

Shit. He had failed.

"I guess you think you're quite clever, trying to distract me earlier today."

He remained speechless, inwardly cursing for his massive screw-up. He'll never see Kate or Alexis again. Tell them how much he loves them. Warn Kate in detail about Bracken. Somehow he has missed something and now they all will pay the price.

Still holding the gun to his neck, she uses her free hand to pull him backwards, gain some room between the window and him. She steps forward so he can see more of her.

"Well it didn't work. So, here is what we're going to do, Ricky. You're going to tell me how you figured it all out; why you suspected us and who you've been in contact with. And if you cooperate, I'm going to put a bullet through your skull and end it in one swift explosion."

He can see the promise in her eyes. She has killed before; will not hesitate to do as she says. Does not have to think about pulling the trigger and ending him.

"But," he sees her eyes flashing excitedly. She is hoping he'll take the next option. "But, if you jerk me around; refuse to talk? Well then, Ricky, you and I are going to have some fun. There is no one here to hear you screaming. And I'll make you scream, that I can promise you."

Rick has no doubts that she will do as she says. The excitement in her eyes is proof that she will enjoy torturing him.

"I didn't contact anyone." It's the truth, and if she is as good as he suspects she is, she'll know this already.

"Not going to deny anything? Very good Ricky. And if you took all the trouble to wheel yourself out to the barn and back, why not contact someone for help?"

Rick feels a frisson of hope with her words. He has an advantage. A small one compared to a gun, but still, it is something. She doesn't know everything.

"I couldn't get in to the computers. You have it locked down with passwords and nothing I tried worked."

She smiles ferally. "True. I checked, you didn't get in. Not so great with hacking, are you Ricky?"

She reaches in a pocket, pulls out a zip tie.

"Put your hands together."

When he doesn't immediately comply, she pistol whips him. Pain explodes behind his left eye.

"I said, put your hands together. I'm not a patient person Ricky."

He obeys and she zip ties his wrists together, tightly.

"Well, well. Looks like you are stuck now."

It's true. With his wrists tied together, he cannot reach to his side and move the wheels of the chair. He could probably touch the wheel, but turning it? And just on one side? He would not be able to go anywhere. At least in the wheelchair.

"I'm going to go get some…toys. Just in case you want to play together. Don't go anywhere." She snorts, laughing at her own wit and leaves the room. They are in the dining room, which has the most windows. The wheelchair is at one end of the room, behind the table and chairs. It is a bit hidden from the entry door, which is the only advantage the room has. Certainly, there is not much in the way of weapons. There is just one door, currently open to the living room, with the kitchen beyond. He doubts he can sneak past her. However, that door…

He hears her coming back a few minutes later. She is humming, steps into the dining room intent on walking around to the far end where she had left him. She stops still, staring at the sight of the empty chair. This is when he jumps her from behind.

He wraps his arms around her neck, using his much stronger arms and larger body mass to choke her. She struggles, ineffectively hitting at him, trying to punch out of it. It does not work. She finally lands a few hard blows, but he can feel she is growing weaker. He nearly relents as she finally grows limp, but suspecting she is faking it he does not let go. His suspicions are proven correct when a few seconds later she suddenly flails out, catching him with a lucky blow in the scrotum. He inadvertently loosens his grip and she takes full advantage, punching harder and twisting like an eel in his desperate grasp.

He wraps his now functional legs around her and despite the blinding pain manages to immobilize her once more. With the last of his strength, he redoubles his efforts to render her unconscious. This time when she goes limp he does not alter his squeeze by even a joule. He tries to fight down the mounting elation of success; there is still a long way to go before he is back where he belongs. It is impossible however not to feel some touch of joy; he has overcome so much.

That is the moment he hears the sound of glass breaking followed shortly by the muffled explosion of a grenade. Then he falls into a dreamless sleep once again.


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: Last chapter, though I will post an epilogue as this one got completely out of hand. Besides, I am superstitious (very common in my line of work) and I couldn't leave it at 13 chapters now could I? I will save all my individual thanks, accolades, etc. for the epilogue. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

It is the cold that finally rouses him. It penetrates his clothes, invades his body before moving directly into his marrow. It is too cold to be unconscious; too cold to be fully awake.

He groans, head pounding, trying to remember all that had happened just before losing consciousness. He remembers the sound of an explosion. Then nothing.

Opening his eyes, he tries to figure out where he is. Unfortunately, his eyes are of no help. Complete blackness. He feels a cloth lying against his cheek. He's not blind, just blindfolded.

He tests his limbs, finds he can move, albeit not far. He is lying on his back, on something soft. Why is it so cold?

He tries to move his arms, use his hands to remove the obstruction over his head. Adrenaline re-floods his body when he realizes he cannot move his arms more than an inch or two; cannot lift his hands past his waist. It feels as though he is strapped to something.

Struggling gets him nowhere. He cannot move from his bonds. Cannot see where he is. He stills, listening intently, but hears nothing. Besides the fact that wherever he is being held is freezing, he has no idea what is going on.

A crunching sound a few minutes later alerts him to a change in the environment. The sound draws closer. He hears someone breathing. They are approaching him. He decides to play dead; has no idea if the person approaching is Meredith or some unknown enemy. The crunching footsteps halt next to him; suddenly a very cold hand is thrust onto his neck below the cloth covering his head. He is unable to suppress a flinch. The hand is like ice.

"Castle, are you awake?" The voice is deep, male. He doesn't think it sounds like John, but he can't be sure.

The cloth covering his head is jerked off; temporarily blinded, he blinks repeatedly in the flood of daylight that is revealed with the cloth removed.

"You're awake. Good. We need to be moving."

* * *

They were trying to kill her. No doubt about it. Or drive her to murder. Justifiable homicide. She'd never serve time.

Despite her mounting frustration, the incessant ringing of cell phones through the loft continued as the various members of Jordan's team made and received calls regarding the status of the extraction party as well as other angles that they were working. She didn't care about any other aspect of the investigation. Only the extraction team. Only them.

They had called in prior to the final approach. Everything had been going well to that point; they had no particular concerns prior to the breach, but who could say what awaited them? There had not been time to sit, watch, reconnoiter. It was a mystery what awaited them, though Kate was certain that he was there.

She had been forced to bed by the combined and united front of Alexis, Martha and Jordan. Martha had come home sometime very late that night or very early in the morning. Shocked at the hive of activity, not sure that she believed them when they told her about their discoveries. However, she was not an actress for nothing and had rallied to the cause. Kate could still see the fear in her eyes that this would all result in a false hope; that her son really was dead and her granddaughter and Kate were falling into a black hole that they might not be able to climb out of again.

Kate had lain down. Sworn to herself it was useless, that she would never sleep. Then was shocked when she woke up a few hours later. Worried she had missed something, she had practically run to the front room. Reassured that nothing exciting beyond a confirmation call that the extraction team had arrived to the general vicinity and were preparing their plan of attack.

Four hours had passed since she had woken up. Jordan had already reassured her three times that this was normal SOP. On the level that Beckett the cop still existed, she understood this. They could not rush in with guns blazing. It had to be done properly. She had no concept of the environmental challenges they were facing, other than there was a bad snow storm occurring.

But the level of Kate, the woman, the fiancée? This level now overwhelmed other identities and this one had little patience. She just wanted to hear his voice, know that he was ok.

She was now sitting in an armchair, a cup of tea to one side. Alexis' way of taking care of her, but not adding to her already over stimulated body with coffee. Plus, she was officially off caffeine with the pregnancy.

Pounding on the front door made nearly everyone jump. No one was expected; Martha went to the foyer and after checking the peephole carefully, opened the door. A very pissed off looking Lanie stood in the doorframe. She remained motionless, taking in the sight of a loft full of strangers before she caught a glimpse of Kate sitting in the living room, staring at her in shock.

Stalking in, she walked straight to Kate.

"Kate Beckett, what the hell is going on and why didn't you answer the phone when I called you, oh, I don't know, like the last five times?"

Kate sighed. She had kept her phone close at hand. Each time it rang a surge of emotion ran through her: hope it was him, dread it was not. Dread had won out. She had not been able to answer it; each time the caller id showed her it was not him, or an unknown number that _might_ be him, her spirits fell and she just hit ignore.

"I'm sorry Lanie. Sorry." The words were little more than a whisper, the look on her face telling Lanie that there was much more at stake than her anger at Kate had justified. Kate was hurting; the kind of hurt that could only involve Castle. Confused, Lanie sank down on the couch nearest Kate's seat and reached over and took her friend's hands in hers.

"What's going on? Who are all these people?"

Kate simply looked through her, staring at something no one else in the room could see. Alexis shifted on the other end of the couch where she had been sitting for the last hour or two.

"It's my dad, Lanie."

"What about your Dad?" She sounded a bit sharper than she had intended, but it was disconcerting, to say the least, to be sitting here with a room full of people who were clearly agents of some kind.

Nothing prepared her for what Kate whispered next.

"He's alive."

"WHAT? Who told you that? What the hell is going on?" In her agitation she had jumped to her feet. Kate looked up at her, finally really _looked_ at her.

"He's alive Lanie, and we're going to get him back." Her words sounded much more confidant when she heard them echo around the loft than what she was feeling inside.

Before Lanie could ask any more questions, Jordan suddenly held up her hand, drawing the attention of nearly everyone.

"Quiet, please." She was holding her phone; it was ringing. "It's them."

* * *

"Going? Going where? I'm not going anywhere until you let me out of these bonds!"

His complaints were rendered moot as he was exhorting them; the ties that held him to whatever he was lying on were already being loosened. As soon as he could sit up, he was scrambling up. His eyes adjusted to the bright light and he saw he was sitting on a sled of some kind that was attached to a snowmobile.

Glancing around, he found the figure of his captor (or rescuer?) standing backlit by the sun. He was tall but no features were distinguishable otherwise. Rick held a hand up to shade his eyes, blinking rapidly; trying to see who he was dealing with.

"Sorry, we had to get you out; the only way to travel across the ranch safely is by snowmobile. Since you were unconscious, we thought it best to strap you to a sled. There's a doctor waiting who will make sure you're not badly injured."

"What do you want with me?"

"To take you home."

Home. He hoped that meant Kate; New York. It was ambiguous without knowing who had him.

"Who are you?"

The man moved slightly to the side, finally out of the direct line of the sun so that he could now see him. He had dark hair under the toque he was wearing. An unfamiliar face.

"You can call me Agent Jones. Jordan Shaw sent us. You're safe now."

* * *

The room was deathly silent as Jordan listened intently to her phone. She rarely made any remarks and those that she did were mostly things like 'I understand,' 'yes,' and 'no.' It was yet one more trial for Kate as she waited to hear if he was alive, injured, or ok.

Jordan spent about three minutes on the phone before eventually clicking it off; she turned around and looked directly at Kate and Alexis.

"They have him. He has a slight concussion, but he's going to be fine."

A loud cheer went up from the agents, while Alexis and Martha threw themselves together in a tight hug. Both were crying, though obviously tears of joy. Lanie just sat, stunned. She had believed until ten minutes ago (or less) that Richard Castle was dead; had been dead for several months. It was almost too much to take in; she wondered if she were dreaming the whole thing.

Kate felt a crushing weight lift off of her. She clutched the arms of the chair to anchor her suddenly lightened body, convinced she might float off into space at any minute. She kept hearing Jordan's words ringing in her ears as she sat with her eyes closed, trying to keep her cells junctioned together as they threatened to explode apart from pure joy. Tears began flowing freely from under her eyelids as the dam that had held her intact emotionally through the ordeal was obliterated by the news that he was alive. He was coming home. To her.

She began sobbing, unable to wrestle any control over her immense relief, the weight that she had borne previously had crushed tears out of her; now it was gone and they overwhelmed her. Lost within the moment, she couldn't hear Lanie trying to get her to calm down, nor Alexis or Martha who surrounded her in a giant hug after they'd finished hugging each other. She simply couldn't stop crying and thinking of him.

When she wouldn't, or couldn't, stop crying, Lanie and Alexis helped her to her feet and together guided her to her room. Their room. They made her lay on the bed, and this time when Alexis climbed in beside her she had no objection. He was alive. Her world was going to have color again.

* * *

Rick was taken by snowmobile to the staging area where the rescue team had launched their final mission. From here he was taken by SUV to an airfield and loaded on a plane. A physician had been brought for any contingencies, and he spent part of the return trip undergoing a physical assessment.

The majority of the team was left behind to gather any and all evidence, especially that found in the barn which Rick told them about. The information Jordan's team was gathering did not go entirely unnoticed. She had received some unexpected and very welcome assistance from an anonymous source that had covert operative written all over it. Whether CIA or FBI she had no idea, but the information had been crucial in getting the rescue team approved. The information had been meticulously gathered, indexed and put together with what they found in Wyoming. It was particularly damning to one specific Senator.

While they waited the nearly six hours for Castle to be brought from the ranch house back to New York, her team was busy extending their scope of investigation. They managed to track and arrest the assassin named John before he could complete his mission, namely killing Kate Beckett. For the first time in several months, the Beckett and Castle family was actually safe from the unseen forces that worked against them.

Once on the plane and released, at least temporarily, from the doctor's ministrations, Rick asked to call his family. Given permission and knowing everyone he loved was at the loft, he called the main number. He had been briefed, to some extent, by the rescue team so he was not shocked when Jordan Shaw answered the phone.

"Mr. Castle, I am glad you're ok."

"Thank you Jordan. I understand I have you to thank for finding me."

Jordan was silent for a second and he worried he had said something wrong.

"No, I was not the one who found you. I just helped make it all possible."

"I don't understand." Rick was not completely clear on what had taken place after getting minimal information. He had thought for certain though that the extraction team said that Jordan had sent them.

"It's far too long of a story to tell on the phone. There will be plenty of time to talk about it once you are here. I imagine you want to speak to your family though."

"Yes, please." He couldn't help the sound of longing in his voice. He heard the phone being handed to someone else, then his mother's voice rang in his ear.

"Richard. Is it really you?"

"Yes mother, it's really me."

"Oh my stars, I just can't believe it." She was crying and talking at the same time. His mother could certainly get on his nerves at times, but she was all he had for a long time. He loved her dearly.

"I love you mom. I'll see you when I get to New York." He almost never called her mom. It made her cry even harder.

"When will that be?"

"I think another three hours or so."

"I love you Richard. Here's Alexis."

He heard his daughter grab the phone.

"Dad?" The sound of her voice after so long brought a lump to his throat. "Dad, are you there?"

"I'm here pumpkin," he choked out. "God, I missed you so much."

"I missed you too Dad. I can't wait to see you and wrap you up in a big hug."

"Me either. Have you been ok Alexis?"

"It's been hard dad. But none of that matters now that you're safe. I wish we could meet you at the airport."

Jordan had decreed that it would be too big of a risk to have a large welcoming party at the airport. It would attract attention, and attention was not needed right at this minute. Castle would be brought directly to the loft, where they would all be waiting for him.

"I'll be there before you know it Alexis. I love you so much."

"I love you too. Do you want to talk to Kate?"

Did he. Did he breathe? "Yes, please pumpkin," voice pleading.

There was some muffled noises as the phone was apparently put down; he then heard some indistinct voices. As the seconds stretched into minutes he began to wonder if everything was ok.

Finally the phone was picked up, but the voice he most wanted to hear was not on the other end.

"Castle? It's Lanie."

"Uh. Hi. Lanie?"

"Listen Castle, I'm going to put the phone up to Kate's ear so you can speak to her, but I'm not sure she'll be able to talk to you."

Rick was shocked. "What the hell is going on Lanie? Is Kate ok?"

Lanie's voice was soft, gentle as she tried to explain. "You have to understand Rick, she thought you died in a plane crash. Your supposed death destroyed her. She completely withdrew, from everything. Everyone. None of us could reach her. And now we find out you're alive? She's been crying non-stop since we heard you were rescued. But now you're on a plane and I think she is terrified something is going to happen to you before you get back here."

Rick was incredulous as he heard the explanation. "I think I understand Lanie. Can I talk to her?"

"Sure, just a second." He heard her moving around again. "Ok Castle, I'm putting the phone to her ear now."

Rick could hear Kate sobbing. "Kate? Kate, it's me. God, I love you so much. I know you can't talk right now, but I can't wait until I'm there and you're in my arms. I never stopped dreaming about you. I love you."

The sobbing had diminished as he spoke. He thought for a minute that the phone had been moved again, but then he heard a hoarse whisper.

"Rick? Is-is it really you?"

"Yeah sweetheart. It's really me. I'm ok."

Her voice was breaking so much he had trouble understanding her.

"I l-love you so much."

"I love you too Kate. As soon as I get home I'm going to grab you and never let go again. You're never going to get rid of me."

She was crying too hard again for him to understand anything else.

"Castle? It's Lanie again. Listen, you be careful and we'll see you in a few hours."

Rick hung up the phone with tears of his own streaming down his face. He just wanted to be home.

* * *

The tension is ratcheting higher and higher in the loft as the minutes after the call announcing they had landed safely pass by. It's been 3 hours and 14 minutes since he hung up with them. Most of the FBI team have packed their equipment and left; only Jordan and her main assistant, Greg Stevens, Lanie, Martha, Alexis and Kate are in the loft.

Lanie had considered calling Javi and Kev, telling them about the news. However, she was asked not to contact anyone yet. It is an ongoing investigation and they don't want a lot of people knowing that he is alive this early into everything. For this reason, Jim Beckett is also not aware of how dramatically his daughter's life has changed.

Kate is back in the armchair, waiting. She has not talked to anyone since the call. She feels like she is drowning in emotion. Handed a plate of food earlier, she ate on autopilot, knowing she had to take care of herself. The reality of him being ok, almost back to her, is threatening to overwhelm her. She feels it is impossible to breathe, imagining all the things that could happen to him before she sees him. It is impossible not to imagine on some level that this is all a fantastic dream once again and that she will wake up alone once more.

Alexis and Martha are sitting on the couch together, Alexis' head resting on her grandmother's shoulder as they wait, impatient. Lanie is seated in another armchair, eyes anxiously flitting to watch Kate every few minutes. She is worried her friend is not going to be able to handle everything. It seems like a story straight from the Lifetime channel.

Jordan and Greg are seated in the dining room, working on some paperwork and periodically taking calls. Every time Jordan gets a call, all the women look at her anxiously, wondering if it's the one telling them he is in the lobby on his way up.

Twenty minutes later and four false alarms, she finally gets a call that makes her smile broadly. He is here.

Alexis and Martha both jump up from the couch and run to the junction of the room where the kitchen and living room meet, facing the entryway. They have their arms around each other, not sure who is holding who up. Kate does not move. She has no strength left in her body to stand. She simply stares at the door, afraid it will never open. Lanie understands, moves to stand behind Kate's chair and rests her hands on Kate's shoulders, giving her the support she knows that she needs.

* * *

Rick is a mess emotionally. The closer they get to the loft the worse it is. He can't wait to see them, but he's not sure he'll be able to see with the pending tears threatening to blur his vision.

Finally they are pulling up to the loft. The car is driven into the garage, minimizing the chances of him being seen by unwelcome eyes. Nonetheless, the agents with him insist he put a coat with deep hood on to hide his features.

He needs minimal help getting out of the car; the physician on the plane thinks he'll have a full recovery but has instructed him to see his own physician as soon as possible. He is able to walk to the building and elevator. He is a bit slow and careful where he puts his feet, but he is able to do it alone.

Accompanied by two agents, he approaches his door. Hesitates for a second when they indicate he can enter. His whole life is behind these doors. Taking a deep breath, he swings it open and slowly enters.

He hears, more than sees, Alexis scream "Dad!" and a blur of red is launched at him. She crushes him in a hug and if it weren't for the two agents behind him grabbing his elbows he would have gone down. Unfortunately, their holding him up by his arms means he can't hug his daughter back. He tries his best to stand there and revel in her presence surrounding him, but she notices he isn't returning the hug after a few minutes.

She pulls back slightly. "Dad? Are you ok?"

He's crying, it's hard to really see her, but he knows what she's asking.

"I'm a little weak in the legs pumpkin. If you could just stand still for a minute.."

She does and he's able to then shake loose of the support from the men behind him and wrap his arms around his daughter for a proper hug.

"Oh, God. I missed you so much." They both are crying, holding to the other tight.

Martha joins the hug and then Alexis releases him enough so he can hug his mother too. The three of them stand embraced, heads together, just taking time to _be_ with each other, for a few minutes. Sniffling, words of love whispered to each other. It is a moving moment; even the tough as nails federal agents get a little lump in their throats watching the reunion of the three generations.

In the living room, Lanie felt the tension in Kate's shoulders as they waited the eternity it took for him to get to the elevator and to the loft. Once the door opened and he stood there, Lanie felt Kate's trembling. It grew stronger with each passing minute as they watched the beautiful reconnection with his mother and daughter. Lanie squeezed her shoulders reassuringly, tried to comfort her, but Kate paid no attention to her.

Rick is overcome for a bit; he can't believe he is back in the arms of the most precious people in the world. Several minutes pass until he realizes someone is missing. Lifting his head up from the embrace of his mother and Alexis, he looks around with puffy eyes. Where is she? Why isn't she here? He glances at Jordan, who gives him a small smile and nod, a welcome home gesture. Then he looks into the living room and sees her. His heart stops beating; his breath ceases.

Their eyes lock and he sees that she is falling into pieces. He doesn't even notice Lanie standing behind her; all he sees is her. She is trembling, violently. He finds that he is too. Pulling out of the embrace of Martha and Alexis, he takes a few hesitant steps towards her.

"Kate?" It's almost a whisper. Longing. Love. Grief. Concern. All wrapped up together.

Her only response is to shudder more violently; he can see she is crying, giant tears rolling down her cheeks, though she has not stopped staring at him as though he is a mirage that will disappear as soon as he gets closer.

He moves forward again, this time not stopping until he is in front of her. He reaches down, takes her right hand in his and lifts it to his heart. Then he sinks to his knees in front of her and leans into her body, wrapping himself around her as much as possible.

"Kate. Oh, my love." He whispers so only she can hear. Leaning back, he pulls her out of the chair and onto his lap on the floor; he cradles her like a baby as she begins to keen loudly. Her hands reach up and roam over his face, touching him everywhere as if trying to confirm he is really there.

"It's ok sweetheart. It's really me. I'm really here." His shirt is getting soaked, though by both of their tears. "Shhh, it's ok. I love you so much."

The sight of the two of them is enough to bring tears to everyone in the room. It is an incredibly intimate moment that they had all played a part in to bring to reality. Yet it feels as though they are intruding on something so private that it was not meant to be shared. When it becomes clear that Kate is not going to be able to stop crying soon and that Rick is not going to let her go, Jordan decides it will be better for all involved if the couple could have some time alone. With some assistance from the agents that brought Rick they are helped to their bedroom to continue their reunion without an audience.

* * *

Half an hour later her sobs have finally ceased. They are lying intertwined, on top of the bed. There is not an area of her body that is not in contact with his, though they are both still clothed. She has touched him everywhere she can reach, reassuring her that he _is_ here. He _is_ real.

"I thought you were dead. You were lost to me and I didn't know how to go on."

"I know. Lanie explained."

"I didn't know how to keep going without you. It was like I was alive, but I wasn't living."

"I kept dreaming of you, though at first I didn't know who you were." At her puzzled expression, he explained some of what they had discovered had happened to him.

"I dreamt of both you and Alexis. It kept me from fully accepting what was being told to me."

"I dreamt of you too, after Alexis finally broke through to me and I realized I could still feel you here." She explains then how her dreams had helped her realize he was alive; he in turn explains how his dreams of her and Alexis kept him sane in the face of the pressure to accept another life. When she tells him about knowing where to find him he is speechless.

As the discussion of the dreams slowly fades, they simply stare into each others eyes. She places his hand over her heart. They lay together in silence for another ten minutes before a knock on the door startles them out of their reverie.

"It's Jordan. May I come in?"

Receiving an affirmative, she comes in, smiling at the sight of the two of them wrapped in each other.

"I'm leaving with the last of the agents. We're still processing the information we found at the site and coordinating with some other agencies. I'll be in touch when I have more information. In the meantime, there is a protective detail that will be covering the loft just in case."

"Thank you so much Jordan. For everything. There is no way to pay you back; no words enough to tell you how much you've done for us."

"Just seeing the two of you back together makes it all worth it. Now, when you're ready, there are still some people here that would like to spend more time with you." Turning, she leaves.

Rick pulls Kate closer. "Are you ready to move?"

"I don't think I ever want to move from here, but I guess we have to."

Together, they make their way slowly back to the living room; hands clutched tightly, his arm draped around her shoulder. The three other women are seated in the living room. When they see the couple approach, they all stand and a five person hug ensues.

Rick settles on the couch, his back in one corner and he pulls Kate to sit between his legs, arms wrapped around her. The others sit near them, Alexis on the floor next to her father so she can be in contact with him as well. They pass the remainder of the evening talking about what had happened to Rick, filling Lanie in on the details of the case as far as they all know. It is an evening of revelations as the full story takes shape.

They break for dinner; Lanie goes and picks up some Italian so that for a full half hour it is just family reveling in the fact that they are together again. Rick never moves out of contact with some part of Kate and vice versa, even as they eat. Finally talked out, Lanie makes her excuses and heads home. It is now quite late and Martha follows suit to her room soon after.

Alexis yawns widely twenty minutes later and stands slowly. She leans down and kisses her father, then Kate, on the forehead.

"Night Dad. I'm so glad you're home."

"Me too, pumpkin. Me too. See you in the morning." He can't help the huge smile that lights his face when he says those words.

After Alexis has disappeared upstairs, he and Kate stand and make their way back to the bedroom. Afraid to let him out of her sight, Kate insists they complete their night routine in the bathroom together. Rick doesn't mind; he feels the same anxiety about not being able to see her.

Kate climbs into bed first; Rick stands beside her just staring for a second.

"God I missed you. I missed us." He bends down and kisses her deeply, tasting her again for the first time.

A knock on the door interrupts them before things get too heated. Rick opens it to find Alexis standing there with some pills and a glass of water.

"Sorry Dad, Kate. Did you remember to take your medicines Kate?"

"I didn't, thank you Alexis." Rick takes the items and closes the door after Alexis gives him another quick kiss.

He climbs in bed next to her, handing her the medications.

"Kate, I can see you're very thin. Is everything ok? Are you sick?"

Kate swallows the pills as he is speaking. She looks at him with such tenderness he feels it pierce his soul.

"I guess in the excitement of having you home we forgot to tell you."

"Tell me what? Are you going to be ok?"

She nods her head, places her hands around his neck to pull him closer.

"I'm fine." She takes one hand from his neck, grabs one of his and places it on her lower abdomen. Staring into his eyes she whispers "we're fine. Now that you're back."

"Do-do you mean?" He trails off as she nods. "Oh, Kate. I didn't think this day could get any better."

He leans over to capture her lips in a deep kiss that quickly escalates. The next hour is spent making sure they both know it is no dream before they succumb to exhaustion and sleep; wound so tightly together there is no way to tell where one starts and the other ends. They are not together due to random luck or by chance. It is a destiny that every once in a while even the forces of the universe that seem so often to force them apart look down and smile. A true love for the ages.


	14. Epilogue

**A/N: I'm done! He terminado. Fin. This is the second multi-chapter story that I've finished, for better or worse. While I had a clear idea of the story when I started, I've discovered that the story you end up writing is not always the one you pictured; this was no exception. I altered some elements as it moved along based on feedback from readers and based on ideas I had as I went. I like how it progressed and I hope I did it justice. It was my first ever ficathon entry of any type and I would like to thank Angie (dtrekker) again for the cover art she made for me.**

**The readers who bother to leave a few words in review of a chapter are invaluable to a new writer like me. I may not always agree with your opinion, but I have appreciated any constructive criticism I've received. There are many who have followed this story from its inception; others who joined in along the way. I would like to acknowledge those who've left me more than one review; in no particular order: dopeysac, the-KLF, characterdriven, justlieforme, torontosun, ilovetoread09, jennkyle, honeyandvodka, codedriver, coyotepup, jester's pet oriole, darkredwillow, I'm widget, Ckrose, Detective Ben, karisha1, live0laugh0love0, michi798, wendykw, nire47, purpleperson12, phoebeluv25, shadowinthedust, shelollipop, godricsranger, wilker39, zingercaskett, geekmom, and . I probably missed some people, but I appreciate everything you tell me. I don't always get to respond to reviews due to my job, but I truly love getting them.**

**Special, special thanks to Garrae. We have had some great chats about both of our fics and about writing in general. Cannot tell you how much I appreciate the thoughts and advice.**

**Shout out as well to Adriana for the support via our chats on BBM. She's trying to give me some prompts for new stories too! **

**To my twitter friends, love reading what you all get up to. Some of them are simply brilliantly hilarious. I have few followers, having had to change my account due to work issues. However, I appreciate all of them. I'm drdit92, same as on here, if anyone is interested.**

**Finally, next up for me will be to continue to add updates periodically to The Tortoise and The Hare, of course. It is by far my most popular story and I will certainly continue it. However, I'm also in the grips of another multi-chapter story that is demanding to be written. It will be very, very long. I've already written the first four chapters and will start publishing when I have around twenty written so that updates can be done very regularly. Don't have a name for it yet, but I hope to concentrate on writing it now that I'm done here. **

**Longest AN ever is now finished. Thanks again for joining me on this journey.**

* * *

_Epilogue_

She awoke with a start. The bed beside her was cold, the room still dark save for the soft glow of the street light filtering in through the window as it reflected off of the steadily falling snow. She knew where she would find him, today of all days.

She struggled to sit up; her advanced pregnancy made simple things like getting out of bed a challenge. Rick was so attentive; he normally moved to help her without even being asked. Tonight she had to gain her feet alone.

Once successful, she headed out the door, through the office. Past the kitchen and up the stairs without hesitation. The door was open, as expected. No light came from the room, but it did not surprise her. He had a new habit of sitting in the dark. Thinking. Worrying. Most of the time she could get him back to bed, comfort him. Today was different. Today they would hopefully receive the final key to resuming their life without the weight that had hung over them for so long.

As she rounds the corner to the door, she sees him immediately. He is sitting in the glider, next to the crib. She pads over to him softly, and he looks up with tears in his eyes. She reaches a hand out to him and he accepts it, pulls her to him and settles her in his lap. Their child stirs within her, not appreciating the surge of emotion pouring through her.

She settles her head against his shoulder and remains quiet. She knows he'll speak when he's ready.

"I'm sorry I woke you."

"You didn't. I just can't sleep without you there."

"I know. I can't sleep without you either." He rubs her belly, soothing the restless babe.

"I can't believe it will finally all be over today."

"Me either." It has been her cross to carry for so much longer than for him. Yet after all they had been through, both together and separately, there was no question that it affected them both. Tremendously.

If the date were not so significant to him, she wonders if he would be this upset. They've talked about it, of course. Even went to counseling together. It had all helped. But it was the culmination of all today would bring them that was truly going to set them free.

"I can't believe it's been two years." His voice is low, gruff. Loaded with emotion.

"Neither can I." Two years. Not to the exact date of course, but still. Two years.

She relaxes even more into him, sinks deeper into his embrace. When she yawns forcefully, he stirs.

"Let's get you two back into bed." He helps her up. They both pause at the side of the crib, look down on their sleeping son. He is seventeen months old, full of energy and vinegar when awake. Rick kisses his fingers then touches his son's head with them.

"Sleep tight Jordan James."

They exit the room, descend slowly down the stairs and back to their bedroom.

After using the bathroom for the hundredth time that day (did this baby really have to sit on top of her bladder the _whole_ time?) Kate slid back into bed next to him.

He reached for her immediately. Since his return they never slept without some part touching each other. His kidnapping and imprisonment had changed both of them, unalterably. She still had not returned to work; initially she could not physically bear to be out of the room without him. Later, in her final stages of pregnancy with their son she simply couldn't work. After JJ's birth, she found she didn't have the drive or desire to be a cop anymore.

Through all of the last twenty four months they had been involved to some degree or another with the investigation and subsequent arrest of many of the people involved. John had cooperated with the prosecution, but his involvement in multiple homicides meant he would be imprisoned for life.

The woman known as "Meredith" to Castle was in reality a professional for hire whose real name was Barbara Tyler. She was arrested, convicted and sentenced to life as well, but had been killed in an ill-fated attempt at an escape five months ago.

The biggest news, after the world was made aware that best-selling author Richard Castle was alive, was the arrest and fall from grace of potential presidential candidate Senator William Bracken. Several of his minions had gone down with him.

The trial had been broadcast over the world; charges were levied against him involving multitudes of offenses, not just his crimes against Johanna Beckett, Katherine Beckett and Richard Castle. However, due to the sensationalism surrounding his crimes and the incredible tragedies they had suffered at his hands, Rick and Kate became the unwilling victims that the world loved to read about.

Their wedding a month after Rick's rescue was the first indication how crazy the public behaved over any news of New York's new favorite couple. They had kept it small on purpose; given the time of year, they couldn't have it in the Hamptons as Kate had wanted originally. It was a lovely ceremony, attended by family and friends, but the reception was marred by the aggressive presence of the paparazzi and it wasn't until they retreated to their honeymoon (a private Caribbean island) that Kate was able to relax.

The delivery of Jordan seven months after Rick's return from the dead fueled the insatiable appetite for the public to read about their lives. While Kate loathed the intrusion, there was a silver lining. Rick's books (written before the ordeal) sold like hotcakes as the public lusted after anything to do with him. They were in a position that he would never have to write again if he decided to cap his pen permanently, while Kate had absolutely no need to return to work. Even Gina and Paula's replacements left them alone after foolishly trying to pressure them into take advantage of the publicity swirling around them.

Every time their story finally began to die down and interest waned slightly, something occurred to ramp it right back up to white hot levels. The conviction of Senator Bracken after a protracted trial was one such event. Kate hoped after his sentencing today they would finally be left alone. However, the public treated them almost like an American version of the British Royals and with her imminent delivery she despaired that they would be allowed to enjoy their newborn and their son in peace.

Alexis had resumed her studies after taking the semester off. Since she had enrolled as 'Alexis Rodgers' she was able to escape the circus that enveloped her father's and Kate's lives. Martha was a huge part of the family; JJ adored her and she spent as much time as she could helping with everything. Jim Beckett was similarly involved in their lives.

Though Kate no longer worked for the NYPD, they still were very close to Kevin, Jenny, Javi and Lanie. The latter two had finally gotten together; realizing life is too precious to waste after seeing what their friends had endured. Even Iron Gates had softened tremendously towards Rick in particular. She and her husband were regularly invited to events at the loft.

Kate relaxed in her husband's arms, breathing in his scent, secure in his embrace. She thought he had fallen asleep, so she was startled when his deep voice sounded in her ear.

"I don't think you should go today."

"What? Why ever not?" She shifted with difficulty so she could see him.

"Kate, you're thirty three weeks pregnant. Those wooden benches are uncomfortable in the best of times; I can't imagine you'll be able to sit for more than twenty minutes at a time, not to mention you have to pee every five minutes. Plus there will be a ton of reporters and cameras covering it. They'll attack like locusts when they see you."

"You have a point. But what about you? You don't want to be by yourself do you?"

Rick sighed. "No. But I don't think I want to go either."

"Really? You're not just saying that so I don't feel guilty?"

"Really. It's time to move on, stop giving ourselves to him. He's going away for a long time. He won't bother us again. I think we need to stop allowing him power over what we do."

"Hmm, I think you're right. What should we do instead?" They already had asked Jim to watch JJ for the day. Jim had preferred to avoid the media circus involved with the entire trial and delighted in taking care of his energetic grandson instead.

"Well, Mrs. Castle. I'm sure we can think of something to do. All day. Alone." He sought her lips and for a while they forgot about anyone beyond themselves.

* * *

Five weeks later Holden Beckett Castle came squalling into the world after a three hour labor. Mother and son came through with flying colors and while JJ was a bit confused as to why his new brother wouldn't be playing with him immediately, he adjusted quickly to having a rival for his parent's attention.

A week later Rick was sitting in the living room holding his newborn son while Kate lay on the couch with JJ falling asleep at her side. Rick couldn't help but get choked up a bit as he reflected on how fortunate he was to have met Katherine Beckett and somehow convince her to fall in love with him. He smiled, content with everything and everyone in his life.

"What are you smiling at Rick?"

"Just reflecting how lucky I am that I met you. Thank you for everything you've done for me Katherine Houghton Beckett Castle. I love you."

Her eyes shone with the unshed tears his words generated.

"I love you too Richard Edgar Castle. I should be the one thanking you. You've given me a whole life that I would never have had without you."

They smiled at each other, knowing that with all they had been through there was literally nothing that could tear them apart; even death. And in the years that followed there were certainly strains and challenges. That's what life is all about. However, as a team Rick and Kate could face anything life chose to give them. They were soulmates, destined to be together, forever.


End file.
